Moving in units and dying alone
Building a glass and glue gelatin throne
Stuck in familiar; in milk and in bone
And in warning
We'll hit the sidewalk and turn on the heat
Live for a moment and die so discreet
Just like the clown who wore black to the beach
Selling blood
People, looking glass people,
Saturday people
Will live one final time
-To reach,(holy calabaroo!)
-Shaking the whitened hand,(holy calabaroo!)
Much more than we can love
Halos for maniacs bent out of shape
Still they will circle the crystalline gates
Along with the pirates who sailed there too late
On a log
I'll be here waiting, -for what? I don't know
With hands like a fly trap and hair that won't grow
A mescaline freak out in an off-Broadway show
In the morning
People, looking glass people,
Saturday people
Will live one final time
-To reach,(holy calabaroo!)
-Shaking the whitened hand,(holy calabaroo!)
Much more than we can love (holy calabaroo!)
Inches towards the beast,(holy calabaroo!)
This is
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