| We’re goin' down the road
|
| Towards tiny cities made of ashes
|
| I’m gonna hit you on the face
|
| I’m gonna punch you in your glasses, oh no
|
| I just got a message that said
|
| «Yeah, Hell has frozen over»
|
| I got a phone call from the Lord sayin'
|
| «Hey boy, get a sweater, right now»
|
| So we’re drinkin', drinkin', drinkin', drinkin'
|
| Coca, Coca Cola
|
| I can feel it rollin' right on down
|
| Oh, right on down my throat
|
| And as we’re headed down the road
|
| Towards tiny cities made of ashes
|
| I’m gonna get dressed up in plastic
|
| Gonna shake hands with the masses
|
| Oh no!
|
| Does anybody know a way that a body could get away?
|
| Does anybody know a way?
|
| Does anybody know a way that a body could get away?
|
| Does anybody know a way?
|
| We’re goin' down the road
|
| Towards tiny cities made of ashes
|
| I’m goin' to hit you on the face
|
| I’m goin' to punch you in your glasses
|
| I’m wearin' myself a T-shirt
|
| That says «The world is my ashtray»
|
| Our hearts pump dust
|
| And our hair’s all gray
|
| And I just got a message that says
|
| «Yeah, hell has frozen over»
|
| I got a phone call from the Lord sayin'
|
| «Hey boy, get a sweater, right now!»
|
| Does anybody know a way that a body could get away?
|
| Does anybody know a way?
|
| Does anybody know a way?
|
| We’re drinkin', drinkin', drinkin', drinkin'
|
| Coca, coca cola
|
| I can feel it rollin' right on down
|
| Oh, right on down my throat
|
| And as we’re headed down the road
|
| Towards tiny cities made of ashes
|
| I’m gonna lay down in the spa
|
| Where they coat you in molasses, right now!
|
| Does anybody know a way that a body could get away?
|
| Does anybody know a way?
|
| Does anybody know a way that a body could get away?
|
| Does anybody know a way? |