Lyrics:

I never, ever want to be hooked up to a conveyor belt, gliding across a dance floor with a wife! while splendid and warmly comical dialogue sprays all over each other's newly developed digi-pak head units! let's play autopsy! let's play biopsy! let's play death march! let's be large and newly beveled silver parts rubbing against and sliding into other pieces of rubble creating a cutting edge microwave so that we can cook cold dead bodies.