Roman Guitars

The pigs all stormed the Bennigans. The band played Touch My Stuff again. We were living up in Michigan by then. The only cats we ever met were mangy lame and dripping wet. These are not the kind of cats you pet. I bet when all the lights come up the club is covered up in cups Counting cash and coins and gushing blood. The only song this singer sings are songs about his victim things. No one ever loved him like you did. And then he points at every kid. Some old man in a Vikings van Drinks Coppola straight from the can. Keeps on misunderstanding what the plan is. Once you're stationed in the back Kick in the doors surprise attack Shut your eyes and shoot into the shack. All your tiny particles Add up to something beautiful. All these little building blocks Creating something high and hot. All your little sleight of hand Means nothing to the science man. He locked us in the hospital And walked us through the chemicals Deep blue truths and glassy eyes Little looks they pulverize And the band slides into Where Are You Tonight? The only songs this singer sings are songs about his victim things And no one ever lvoed him like you do. And now he's pointing right at you. Cause all your little molecules Creating something drunk and cute. Computers kids and chemicals The flowers and the fruits. Legal streets and Cream of Wheat America runs on blistered feet. Coffee cups and donut shops. Depression and defeat. All your little molecules Add up to something beautiful.