| We’re going down the road towards tiny cities made of ashes |
| I’m gonna hit you on the face, I’m gonna punch 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 saying hey boy, get a sweater |
| Right now |
| So we’re drinking, drinking, drinking, drinking 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 going 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 |
| I’m wearing 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 saying 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 drinking, drinking, drinking, drinking Coca, Coca-Cola |
| I can feel it rollin' right on down my, oh right on down my throat |
| And as we’re heading down the road towards tiny cities made of ashes |
| I’m gonna lay down at the spa where they coat you in molasses |
| What 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? |