Lyrics:

Look, he drank straight from the faucet
Holy shit, he's fucking lost it
We only enjoy fine sparkling water
Fed something adhesive to your daughter!
Look, he drank straight from the faucet
Holy shit, he's fucking lost it
We only enjoy fine sparkling water
Fed something adhesive to your daughter!

Call me old-fashioned, but I think trains kick ass! (yeah)
I don't need hot wheels to get to class!

What the hell is wrong with him?
His hair's so long, it needs a trim
I heard he packs a lot in those bloomers
It's probably true like all the other rumors

You think you're modern
But that taste won't last (It just won't last)
And everything you own
Will be (Will be) the fucking past (the fucking past)

Cynicism save me, turn me around and march me
Back up the sidewalk to my door
Take me back inside and throw my trench-coat
On the floor (Lead me back into my bedroom)
And make me put my clothes back on

Grab the Mag-Lite, get the grappling hook
Let's find the bottom of this cave and close the book

The salt on my lips is an enzyme
That metabolizes reality
To fuel these dirty delusions
You're leading me to these conclusions
The organs exploding
In my torso
Like a series of city blocks
Giving in to a nuclear blast

And now my pressure relief valve is activated
Maybe I should stop holding my breath
I'll prove it, come sit next to me
Tell me what you do at work, you half-hearted intimacy
We'll be like gay actors, over and out
Having the kind of sex sacrificial virgins fantasize about

But if I knew your name

It would have to be for charity
Just try me! Test me! Release me!
Cynicism reassure me that
If we only had less clothing and better light
It would all just be an embarrassing
Misunderstanding
The sudden silences aren't the crash
Where lips should be

If this were a contract, I wouldn't sign