Lyrics:

You get the ankles and I'll get the wrists. You get the ankles and I'll get the wrists. You get the ankles and I'll get the wrists. You come down to this. Nerves are up and the eyes all screwy Blood like a panful of boiling ratatouille My muscles in a mess like a mess of spaghetti Hack through the mess with a greased-up machete Hang from the axles of a box car Follow the dotted line Like a steer to Chicago But to the hooks of the Chicago man I get all tripped up my eyes turn to water rug burns from a shag rug struck dumb in the presence polyester burns from a jacket rub the skin thin break down in a diner then I paid the bill cashier toothpick stuck in the ground tiny lawnmower to mow me down I could get lost in a lunchbox lie low in the mittens in the lost and found