Woorden:
Dorpelingen

The villagers are out tonight, uptight and bored They're pushing you underground On wintry days they stand and gaze Outlined in black and ignorant villagers

Because I'm tired of maturity, airport insecurity Runnin' from the thought police, fightin' with the go-betweens Hold up, let me steal a breath 'Cause

Oh, our livin's a buncha shit Shit is a part of livin' Fartin's a friend of shit And I slowly carry on Give me a clarinet Give me a break but hurry And

Saturday night in the men's ensemble dressin' room Startin' a fight in the men's ensemble lair Beware of dreams come true It means you have to share a

Feminists don't have a sense of humor Feminists just want to be alone Feminists spread vicious lies and rumors They have a tumor on their funny bone

My love is selfish And I bet that yours is too What is this peculiar thing called truth My love is selfish And it cares not who it hurts It will cut

The most familiar room Every implement was leading to you And your homely sense of disarray Never once the same, always rearranged But things would never

In the center of the city was a statue and her twin And together they watched over everything Oh, they saw me when I stumbled and they watched you help

How heavy you are my new born child So viciously free So careless and wild But the eyes of a saint and the soul of a thief In a new found land The windows