Spy, spy, pretty girl,
I see you see me through your window
Don't turn your nose up,
well, you can if you need to,
you won't be the first or last.
It must strain you
to look down so far from your father's house,
And I know what a louse like me
in his house could do for you
I'm the cream
of the great Utopia dream,
and you're the gleam
in the depths of your banker's spleen.
I'm a phallus in pigtails,
And there's blood on my nose,
and my tissue is rotting
where the rats chew my bones,
and my eye sockets empty
seeing nothing but pain.
I keep having this brainstorm
about twelve times a day.
So now, you could spend the morning
walking with me, quite amazed,
as I'm unwashed and somewhat slightly dazed.
I got eyes in my backside
that see electric tomatoes
on credit card rye bread.
There are children in washrooms
holding hands with a queen,
and my head's full of murders
where only killers scream.
So now, you could spend the morning
talking with me, quite amazed,
look out, I'm raving mad and somewhat slightly dazed.
Now you run from your window
to the porcelain bowl,
and you're sick from your ears
to the red parquet floor,
and the Braque on the wall
slides down your front,
and eats through your belly
It's very catching
So now, you should spend the morning
lying to your father, quite amazed,
about the strange unwashed and happily slightly dazed.
