You may be a dead beat But don't be A dead beat on my street. You leave your messes everywhere and Why must you insist on needlin' me? You feed the insecurity And hold us all to ransom.
Don't believe a word That you invented To torture yourself. You enjoy the pain, Enjoy the suffering, That you impose On the world.
Don't think you're any good For me Or you.
Order the scrambled brains. Order the scrambled brains. Order the scrambled brains. Order the scrambled brains.
Men with the paper slippers wait for you. Just for you.