The Muzik

Oh, Vera, my sweet I would offer you some meat In exchange for a good loaf of wax I would smear it on you and on all your apples too If I thought it would help you relax But the bones in the ground, well, they never make a sound And the bones in the ground are all fine And the bones in the air, well, they haven't got a care And the bones in the air are all mine Oh, shiny Maureen, won't you tell me where you've been? And I'll work out where you should be now In a cluster of apes that do rub themselves with grapes You'll be tied to the back of a cow But the bones in the ground, well, they never make a sound And the bones in the ground are all fine And the bones in the wind, Lord, have mercy how they grinned And the bones in the wind are all mine Oh, Paula Lorraine, won't you comment on my sprain? And I'll shave you in some cozy church I don't care what you're called, I just wanna shave you bald And I'll know that I've finished my search But the bones in the ground, well, they never make a sound And the bones in the ground are all fine And the bones in the air, well, they sing a rattling air And the bones in the air are all mine