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It's driving me crazy...this necropolis. |
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I feel watched and dirty all the time. |
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These nasty piles of the populous, |
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Commit and resubmit the heinous crimes. |
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Oh... where can we turn, I feel like a contradticion? |
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Oh...I start to burn, I feel subjucated to submission? |
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It's making me seethe...this necropolis. |
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Making me turn round and round. |
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Suddenly one of the populous. |
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Guess there are no more mysteries to expound...or confound. |
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Oh... where can we turn, I feel like a common dictator? |
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Oh... I start to yearn, my potato features are in the perculator? |
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Eeeh..oh..poppin chock.. where shan't I go? |
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Peeh oh..cockkin bock... why can't I slow? |
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Oh... where can we turn, I explain to the juristdition? |
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Oh... where can we turn, ah-ee-ah-ee-ahhh.... |
