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!