| Was it something I said
|
| That bruised or broke your fragile skin, my friend?
|
| But how could I
|
| Have known the dead would be so sensitive?
|
| The cretin king has risen from the shallow dirt we buried him
|
| To save us from bereavement for his warm beloved temperament
|
| Come down, give up the stones you’re casting at me
|
| So sad, with every throw your bones heard cracking
|
| For a skeleton, you’ve got a lot to say
|
| It’s such a shame that no one’s listening
|
| I think your skeletons, they’ve got a lot to say
|
| Now what made you think it means shit to me?
|
| Was it something I did
|
| That summoned up the living dead again
|
| To criticize
|
| Is so remiss of walking skeletons
|
| The cretin king has risen, built a monument to fools again
|
| To save us from bereavement for his warm beloved temperament
|
| Come down, give up the stones you casted at me
|
| So sad, such a sad, sad song, with every throw
|
| Your bones heard cracking
|
| For a skeleton, you’ve got a lot to say
|
| It’s such a shame that no one’s listening
|
| I think your skeletons, they’ve got a lot to say
|
| Now what made you think it means shit to me?
|
| Why you insist upon keeping one foot out the grave
|
| I’ll never know
|
| It’s lonely in death, but just think of the breath that you’ll save
|
| It gets old
|
| For a skeleton, you’ve got a lot to say
|
| It’s such a shame that no one’s listening
|
| I think your skeletons, they’ve got a lot to say
|
| Now what made you think it means shit to me? |