Blood on the T.V., ten o'clock news.
Souls are invaded, heart in a groove.
Beatin' and beatin' so outta time.
What's the mad matter with the church chimes?
Here comes a stranger up on Ninth Avenue.
Leanin' green tower, indiscreet view.
Over the cloud, over the bridge,
sensitive muscle, sensitive ridge of my
s***e monkey. Sign of the time-time
s***e monkey, so outta line-line.
s***e monkey, sort of divine.
And he's mine, mine, all mine.
Pierre Clementi, snot full o' cocaine.
The s**ual streets, why it's all so insane.
Humans are running, lavender room.
Hoverin' liquid, move over moon for my
s***e monkey. Sign of the time-time
s***e monkey, sort of divine-vine
s***e monkey, so out of line and he's mine, mine, oh he's mine
(spoken)
A stranger comes up to him; hands him an old, rusty Polaroid.
It starts crumbling in his hands.
He says, "Oh man, I don't get the picture. This is no picture.
This is just...this just-a...this just-a...
This is my jack-knife. This is my jack-knife.
This is my jack-knife. This is my jack." [shriek]
Rude excavation, landin' site.
Boy hesitatin', jack-knife.
He rips his leg open, so out of time.
Blood and light runnin'. It's all like a dream.
Light of my life, he's dressed in flame.
It's all so predestined. It's all such a game for my
s***e monkey. Sign of the time-time.
s***e monkey, sort of divine-vine.
s***e monkey, so out of line and it's all just s***e, just s***e.
There he is, up in a tree.
Oh, I hear him callin' down to me.
That banana-shaped object ain't no banana.
It's a bright, yellow U.F.O.
And he's coming to get me. Here I go.
Up, up, up, up, up, up, up ,up, up ...
Oh, goodbye mama. I'll never do dishes again.
Here I go from my body.
Ha. Ha. Ha. Ha. Ha. Ha. Help!
Souls are invaded, heart in a groove.
Beatin' and beatin' so outta time.
What's the mad matter with the church chimes?
Here comes a stranger up on Ninth Avenue.
Leanin' green tower, indiscreet view.
Over the cloud, over the bridge,
sensitive muscle, sensitive ridge of my
s***e monkey. Sign of the time-time
s***e monkey, so outta line-line.
s***e monkey, sort of divine.
And he's mine, mine, all mine.
Pierre Clementi, snot full o' cocaine.
The s**ual streets, why it's all so insane.
Humans are running, lavender room.
Hoverin' liquid, move over moon for my
s***e monkey. Sign of the time-time
s***e monkey, sort of divine-vine
s***e monkey, so out of line and he's mine, mine, oh he's mine
(spoken)
A stranger comes up to him; hands him an old, rusty Polaroid.
It starts crumbling in his hands.
He says, "Oh man, I don't get the picture. This is no picture.
This is just...this just-a...this just-a...
This is my jack-knife. This is my jack-knife.
This is my jack-knife. This is my jack." [shriek]
Rude excavation, landin' site.
Boy hesitatin', jack-knife.
He rips his leg open, so out of time.
Blood and light runnin'. It's all like a dream.
Light of my life, he's dressed in flame.
It's all so predestined. It's all such a game for my
s***e monkey. Sign of the time-time.
s***e monkey, sort of divine-vine.
s***e monkey, so out of line and it's all just s***e, just s***e.
There he is, up in a tree.
Oh, I hear him callin' down to me.
That banana-shaped object ain't no banana.
It's a bright, yellow U.F.O.
And he's coming to get me. Here I go.
Up, up, up, up, up, up, up ,up, up ...
Oh, goodbye mama. I'll never do dishes again.
Here I go from my body.
Ha. Ha. Ha. Ha. Ha. Ha. Help!