TMB(ot)G

Walking stick
Lobster shell
Cellophane
Acid bath
Legal pad
Nitrogen
Avocado
Sleeping bag
Rope

JL: What?
JF: Green grape gravy grateful grab
JL: Whaaaaat?
JF: Skele­tele­tele­ton

But the anger we felt for each other was kept
In our private backstage world

Homunculus is by your side
Ungrateful now and he's losing your trust
Your old star map, a disco nap,

A number of years ago
My cousin Charles heard over the radio
On WEEI

Sick of it all, I'm done with the floor
Walked away ever since I got a new job climbing the walls

I am alone in the three part folding mirror
On the bathroom door
I am alone in the three part folding mirror
On the bathroom door

If I could I would write it out, underline the highlights
Of the dream that would now redefine my life

I want to be the night security
I want to sleep right in my clothes

Violin, lin, lin
Violin, lin, lin

JF: And I'm John too.
JL: And we're They Might Be Giants.
JF: And this show is all about the ABCs.

We could sleep all afternoon
You'd proclaim that you're an island

U R N X, N I, I M N X
I C T V
I C T V, N I C U
I C U, I C U, N U R O K
U R N X
U R N X, N I, I W

Somewhere other than here
Something else besides the man

With no place in the processional
and no seat in the convention hall

Ceres
Pallas
Vesta
And a bunch of other stuff

But E eats everything

Hello?

We'll be singin'
When we're winnin'
We'll be singin'

La, la la la
La la la la
La la la la
La la la la

Can't keep Johnny down (down, down, down)

Everything is catching, yes
Everything is catching on fire
(Everything's catching on) Yeah (fire)

And these are the words that he told the fellow next door

Careful what you pack
There's no going back
She's lost from the beginning
She's the new girl

Oh it's pointless staying up for even twenty seconds more
When everything has happened and there's nothing else in store

Doing the things a particle can
What's he like? It's not important
Particle Man

And when it’s raining they get complaining
And run around out of control
Moles

Aaa!
Aaa!
Aaa!

In my prison cell I bide my time
Always thinking
Always busy cooking up an angle
Working on the tiny blueprint of the angle
Sketching out the burning autumn leaves

Things were lookin' rad
Oh yeah
For the forces of bad
Alright