Lyrics:

You got to come into my kitchen for a crime
You got to chew me up and tie me to the kite
I'm gonna tell you what to do about yourself
Because the breakfast of the champions is a hedonistic health

Made of paper and glue
You're a Rubik's Cube
You can buy it in cans
Tin cans
You were always the first
But I think you've got your hands reversed
Your hands reversed
Your hands reversed
And 'cool', 'fo-sho'

Watching your weekends and your holidays combine
Trying to color in between the dotted lines
Your only souvenir's a suitcase full of sand
But when you feel like you're a million and I feel like I'm a grand

Made of paper and glue
You're a Rubik's Cube
You can buy it in cans
Tin cans
You were always the first
But I think you've got your hands reversed
Your hands reversed
Your hands reversed
And 'cool', 'fo-sho'