We're going down the road Towards tiny cities made of ashes Gonna hit you on the face Gonna punch you in your glasses... Oh, no! | | I just got a message that said "Yeah, hell is freezin' over" I got a phone call from the Lord Saying "Hey, boy, get a sweater right now!" |
So we're drinkin', drinkin', drinkin' Drinkin', drinkin' coca-coca-cola I can feel it rollin' right on down Oh, right on down my throat | | And as we're headed down the road Towards tiny cities made of ashes Gonna get dressed up in plastic Gonna shake hands with the masses... Oh, no! Does anybody know a way that a body could get away? Does anybody know a way? |
Were goin' down the road Towards tiny cities made of ashes Gonna hit you on the face Gonna punch you in your glasses... Oh, no! | | I'm wearin' myself a T-shirt that says "The world is my ashtray" Our hearts pump dust And our hairs all grey And I just got a message sayin' That hell has frozen over Got a phone call from the Lord Sayin' "Hey, boy, get a sweater right now!" Does anybody know a way that a body could get away? Does anybody know a way? |
So we're drinkin', drinkin', drinkin' Drinkin', drinkin' coca-coca-cola I can feel it rollin' right on down Oh, right on down my throat | | And as we're headed down the road Towards tiny cities made of ashes Gonna lay down in the spa Where they coat you in molasses... Oh, no! Does anybody know a way that a body could get away? Does anybody know a way? |
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