When I rise in the morning sun,
and the tapes pull on my covered brain,
and the moment that I shower makes me see
that implants may be the thing for me.
And it looks phony with a summer breeze,
keeps me warm in the winter, that I need
But it's true I need to know:
How neat is my rug? (how neat is my rug?)
I really need to know
'cause we're living in a world of skulls,
hair falling down,
and they all leave folically
I believe genetically.
I believe it's true
You know it's taped to my earlobe hole
Is it right? It's my deepest darkest hour
I would die it, it should fall.