| Karen blows the smoke across
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| The table to the seat I’m in
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| And blood is passed around in glasses
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| «Vintage year», she says again
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| She says again
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| As I sit here choking on my food
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| Like words we’ve swallowed deep inside
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| Well, there’s a polka dotted dog
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| Who keeps barking as the cars go by
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| Barkin' as the cars go by
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| And it’s that stupid dog’s tail
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| That I see us chase
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| But she can’t see it on my face
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| 'Cause I’m home in this electric chair
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| 'Cause I’m home in this electric chair
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| 'Cause I’m home in this electric chair
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| Well, I’m home
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| So we watch the clock tic quietly
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| As it syncs itself to our heartbeats
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| And then Karen stands up with her glass
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| And another toast to everyone she cares about
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| Everyone she cares about
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| And I’m really turned off
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| By the fact she cares
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| But she doesn’t understand
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| That I’m home in this electric chair
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| That I’m home in this electric chair
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| That I’m home in this electric chair
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| That I’m home
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| So we sit down as I kiss her goodnight
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| And she straps my buckles all down tight
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| Upon my cheek she lays a kiss
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| Then she plugs me in and throws the switch
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| In my electric chair
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| In my electric chair
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| 'Cause in my electric chair I’m home
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| Yeah, I’m home, yeah, well, I’m home
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| Yeah, well, I’m home
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| Yeah |