| Harness your hopes
|
| Harness your hopes
|
| On just one person
|
| Because you know a harness
|
| was only made for one
|
| Don’t telegraph your passes
|
| You’ll end up with molasses
|
| cauterized in syrup
|
| And syrup and molasses
|
| And I’m checking out the asses
|
| The assets that attract us
|
| To anything that moves
|
| We’re deep inside the grooves
|
| And it’s time to shake the rations
|
| cause someone’s gonna cash in
|
| The plot it turns again
|
| The reference starts at ten
|
| Well show me
|
| A word that rhymes with Pavement
|
| And I won’t kill your parents
|
| And roast them on a spit
|
| And a-don't you try to etch it
|
| Or permanently sketch it
|
| Or your gonna catch a bad bad cold
|
| And the freaks have stormed the white house
|
| I moved into a lighthouse
|
| It’s on a scenic quay
|
| It’s oh so far away
|
| Far away from the beginning
|
| The shroud is made of linen
|
| The yearling took the purse
|
| The goth kid has a hearse
|
| Heart-breaking
|
| Earth-quaking
|
| Kiwis they are home baking
|
| Minds wide open truly
|
| Leisure
|
| A leisure suit is nothing
|
| It’s nothing to be proud of
|
| In this late century
|
| And I’m asking you to hold me
|
| Just like the morning paper
|
| Pinched between your pointer
|
| Your index and your thumb
|
| It’s a semi-automatic
|
| Believers are ecstaic
|
| You see the way they cling
|
| The cold metallic sting
|
| And I’m living in a coma
|
| For Donna DeVorona
|
| The harness made of hopes
|
| The lovers on the ropes
|
| Nun is to church
|
| As the parrot is to perch
|
| And my Heart’s
|
| Wide open Truly |