| They snakes they can crawl
|
| And the cheetahs they can bawl
|
| And their ghosts can wait for the hereafter
|
| But if you are so proud
|
| As to say that’s not allowed
|
| We will get sick and choke ourselves with laughter
|
| And the girlfriends that you knew
|
| To whom you promised to be true
|
| We’ll have their sisters
|
| Hanging from the rafters
|
| And every dirty shade will rise rotting from the grave
|
| Tomorrow will be just like the day after
|
| And this bitter desert wind
|
| Will come ripping through your skin
|
| And everything that’s calm will turn to madness
|
| And all of your fake tears
|
| Will come whirling down the years
|
| And what was kind and warm will come to sadness
|
| And the sun and the moon
|
| Will come begging at your door
|
| The stars will turn to rust
|
| And drop from the skies
|
| And everybody will soon be asking you for more
|
| And everybody will be telling lies
|
| And the girlfriends that you knew
|
| To whom you promised to be true
|
| We’ll have their sisters
|
| Hanging from the rafters
|
| And every dirty shade will rise rotting from the grave
|
| Tomorrow will be just like the day after |