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He's dead and naked |
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I'm naked too |
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He's dead and naked |
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At least I'm, I'm still wearing shoes |
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Once there was an ugly woman |
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Who was told to tell the truth |
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And so she said we needed fighters |
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Who were mean but mainly lighter |
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Than the metal war machinery |
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That was used to make us scream |
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And so we gathered up an army |
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And that was thin, but then a storm began |
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And it was really raining |
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Like some swollen lakes were draining |
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Into thunderclouds and breaking |
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As our enemies were waking |
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They were stuck like legless bugs there |
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In a mucky mire of mud where |
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They were stabbed and left to squirm |
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Like lost and lonely wiggle worms |
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He's dead and naked |
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I'm naked too |
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He's dead and naked |
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At least I'm still wearing shoes |
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He's dead and naked |
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I'm naked too |
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He's dead and naked |
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At least I'm still wearing shoes |
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Cautiously their leader ran |
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Until he saw me and my hand |
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Inviting him to come inside |
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My tent where he could safely hide |
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He was shivering and wet |
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And so I said that I would get some clothes |
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But then his tender eyes |
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Reached out and made me recognize |
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This vile and evil enemy |
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As someone soft and even sweet |
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Confused, I said he needed rest |
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But then somehow we were undressed |
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I said I heard someone outside |
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And rolled him in a rug and cried |
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I drove a tent stake in his head |
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And continued crying as he bled |
