| Here’s father, his heart screwed on | 
| Yes, here he’s got it I’m sure | 
| 'Cause he lost his life in an accident | 
| Found his heart in the man next door | 
| What exactly’s gonna happen | 
| When they do transplant the brain | 
| Will my borrowed brain still compute the same | 
| Or will my daughter suffer so much more | 
| Here comes the girl, she’s got her head screwed on | 
| But it ain’t screwed on right | 
| Her ambition is to be a prostitute | 
| But the breaks just weren’t right | 
| What exactly’s gonna happen, tell me | 
| When her father finds out | 
| That his virgin daughter has bordello dreams | 
| And that he’s the one she wants to try out | 
| Yeah | 
| There’s ma, she’s living dangerously | 
| It’s a cinch she’ll try it anything twice | 
| She thinks she can run right to the whirlpool’s edge | 
| And stop herself just in time | 
| What exactly’s gonna happen | 
| When she finally fizzles out | 
| The lovers will just be sucked into | 
| To see what the colours of death are all about | 
| Here’s the son, has his legs a-screwed on | 
| Yeah, they’re screwed on pretty tight | 
| But his brain is loose and it ain’t no use | 
| He’s already lost the fight | 
| What exactly’s gonna happen | 
| When he’s finally realized | 
| That he can’t play his guitar like E.G. | 
| Jim | 
| Or write St. Augustine if he tried | 
| That’s what happens | 
| When a family finds out | 
| That they’ve been in orbit now for a thousand years | 
| And need a thousand more to climb out |