| Maybe we’re nothing but skin and bone
|
| Blare and rubber
|
| Eyes that blubber
|
| Teeth that bite
|
| Hands that slight
|
| And I’m trying to do the best I can
|
| But I’m a limited, primitive kind of man
|
| Maybe we’re nothing but skin and bone
|
| Nerves that shatter
|
| Tongues that flatter
|
| Lips that mutter
|
| Lashes that flutter
|
| Mounds of dust and lips of ripe
|
| Twice as vicious
|
| As the words I type
|
| Under a ribbon
|
| Of every stripe
|
| There’s a grip that tightens
|
| A dark that frightens
|
| A wise that crackles
|
| A fear that shackles
|
| And I’m trying to do the best I can
|
| But I’m a limited, primitive kind of man
|
| And then that kinder creation
|
| Becomes a fine fixation
|
| All of a sudden
|
| With the parts we’ve hidden
|
| Because they are forbidden
|
| Beneath a hide of pain
|
| You’ll find a soul of stain
|
| While fists still beat
|
| At heart’s deceit
|
| And I’m trying to do the best I can
|
| But I’m a limited, primitive kind of man
|
| Maybe with nothing but a drum and drone
|
| I want to beat it 'til I get unknown
|
| Pig some skin
|
| Stretch it tight
|
| Make myself up overnight
|
| Maybe this is nothing but drum and drone
|
| Wanna beat it 'til I get unknown
|
| Dig my pin
|
| Kick up some stink
|
| Find myself a brand new kink
|
| Prick that berry
|
| And squeeze this ink
|
| Scratch out all of the words I think
|
| Before your very eyes can blink
|
| And I’m trying to do the best I can
|
| But I’m a limited, primitive kind of man |