Lyrics:

This is how it starts

So in the past week I've made several trips to the gynecologist
He was surprised to see me standing there with my golden ticket hanging out of my left pocket
As I entered the building I saw a large acrylic painting span the ceiling
And a stale smell of silicone clung to the wall
I breathed it in, I breathed it out
I thought nothing of it then and think nothing of it now
I think nothing of it now

Salutations are in order
To welcome forth our sweet disorder

So why don't you sit in the corner of your room
Sit in the corner of your room and download the next greatest hit to your MP3 downloadable device
You can pack it up, plug it in, because it is so recommended to you by the New Musical Express
You can then go round to your friend’s house and play it loud and proud
As you sit around in a circle and skip one minute and thirty seconds into the chorus
So you can all sing along to the four chord future
Because that's what we want something that we can touch, something we can feel
Something that's relatable not debatable, relatable not debatable, relatable not debatable
Relatable not debatable

Salutations are in order
To welcome forth our sweet disorder

I don't want to be hurt if you're the only one listening
Bathe me in blood and call it a christening

I don't want to be hurt if you're the only one listening
Bathe me in blood and call it a christening

Bathe me, bathe me in blood
Bathe me, bathe me, bathe me in blood

And that's how it ends