Line the Cows

Dungarees, goggles, and an air of deceit These cows have been milked beyond plausible reason Chortles and muttses and nothing else more Yet you′ll say "Tom, I stole till your glutes is sore" A lunchbox, a towel, a skateboard, a bag Insurance, some rubber band, fast food A suffocating presence like sex in a duvet I've no other choice than embracing what you say All this ubiquity is making me nauseous Lining the streets like the guards without a fortress Line the cows! Line the cows! To call it a day is more gracious a thing Then to keep churning out sour batches Not that I′d say it was good in itself But a handful is better than the need for a shelf A name's unimportant, we'll think of one later By the time that we′re done we′ll be a household There's a bloody great pile of waste down the road Where lie our integrity, our substance and soul All this ubiquity is making me nauseous Lining the streets like the guards without a fortress Line the cows! Line the cows! So take my money, sleeping people Take the lot you might as well Now get out of my personal space Don′t wanna see you squeeze again Not you, not any slight resemblance, acquaintance, nor alias As for the brainwashed innocence that fell to you, our pious Line the cows and squeeze it out Line the cows and squeeze Line the cows and squeeze it out Bring 'em to their knees Line the cows and squeeze it out Line the cows and squeeze What curd, what is to be procured As yellow hell devours the world All this ubiquity is making me nauseous Lining the streets like the guards without a fortress All this ubiquity is making me nauseous Lining the streets like the guards without a fortress All this ubiquity is making me nauseous Lining the streets like the guards without a fortress Line the cows! Line the cows!