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When I was a little boy |
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I threw away my action toys |
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I became obsessed with operation with |
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Hearts and minds and certain glands |
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You learn to keep a steady hand |
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And thus began a morbid fascination with... sweetbreads, |
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I could taste what you were thinking sweetbreads, that's the taste of neurons thinking |
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Do you wonder where the self resides |
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Is it in your head or between your sides |
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And who's going to decide its true location? cause it's a question for the centuries from communion to mad cow disease but is it worthy of a song - all life's location? oh and the sweetest sweetbread of them all within the kingdom of afar call them thoughts and metaphor-inations they call them sweetbreads, |
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I could taste what you were thinking sweetbreads, that's the taste of neurons thinking does the thought of bowels red and black the thought of tongues that taste you back fill you with a nauseous elation where a simple trip to the grocery store could fill you with an abject horror can you taste the misery of those crustaceans? oh and the sweetest sweetbread of them all within the kingdom of afar should've caused some silent machinations they call them sweetbreads, |
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I could taste what you were thinking sweetbreads, that's the taste of neurons thinking aw, |
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I could taste what you were thinking oh, give me your thoughts about sweetbread |
