Explosion Sounds
So get up and count your teeth
And make love on the loan shark sheets
Where your girl got passed around
To help wash down the post-war doubt
Or have you lost your taste for it?
Those blood-lust boys and girls don’t quit
So there’s a crowd under your clothes
Between you both and you can’t get close

So you sleep and she drinks
And you drink and she sleeps
And you blink and she blinks…
Well, God, ain’t love a fucked-up thing?

When you choke on your riot tongue
And cheap cologne in the vulgar sun
You’ll write it off and lay in bed
With minefield dread and words to shred
But now you know your friends are rats
And now you drink with baseball bats
And goddamn, you still want her mouth
To drown you out with explosion sounds
But you sleep and she drinks
And you drink and she sleeps
And you blink and she blinks…
Well, God, ain’t love a fucked-up thing?

But I love the great obscene
I love the strip club meat, I love the trophy heat
And I know I’ll miss your teeth
But God, I love the fucked-up things

So if it takes one more time to give this up
Then I’ll wait one more night to give you up
But now it seems like we both like the noose tight
And you’ve got a cutthroat mind
And we both like the noose tight
And we both got the rope and we both got the time

But I sleep and you drink
And I drink and you sleep
And I blink and you blink…
Well, that is the truly fucked-up thing

‘Cause we are the great obscene
And all those girls are cheap, those boys just can’t compete
In our hell, the drinks are free
And we are the greatest fucked-up things
So come on, let’s barricade the doors
Yeah, come on, fuck all those rookie whores
Yeah, come on, let’s have a civil war
Only stop to call the dealer and the liquor store
Yeah, come on, let’s see what veins are for
Yeah, come on, let’s fuck with hell some more
Yeah, come on, we’ll kill each other, sure
But we won’t die alone and we won’t die bored