Landing At Vatican

To start the fire, I chewed the rubber lining off the stereo wire.

You would not have believed the vapors, when the carpet fiber melted

down the fly paper.

The living room was just a pilot light in the oven that became that

hot Chicago night.

I am a monkey, tossing shit at the fan. The Mary Magdalindenberg,

burning does a landing at the Vatican,

and oh, the humanity, oh the humanity, you can't plan this kind of insanity.

All the filth, all the beauty.

To clean it up, I used some soap and water in a dixie cup.

I brushed my teeth until I bled from my gums.

I brushed the blood down to the cytoplasm.

ah, ah, ah.

La la...

Well, now at least I've got such a pretty smile, and a reason or two to use it.

And the holy holy smoke, coming billowing billowing and the white

white masses don't find it amusing.

But suddenly, the sky becomes stunningly clear, and I can see from here.

It's gonna be, it's gonna be, it's gonna be a good year.

All the filth, all the beauty.