作曲 : Fog

A three-piece suit on me,

A tutu on you.

In an empty airplane hangar

At a table for two.

A pregnant pause.

A thought exhaled.

In the jowls of the work-week

Spare me the details.

And if you ever did

Spy a giant squid

With your lazy eye

With its drooping lid

We're in this together

Son, your beef is mine

Well, Vern sunburns himself

For to peel the old him off

To find the red him underneath

The redder him, more raw.

Scooping out his brains

With a rusted grapefruit spoon

Drinking his own urine

In the executive washroom.

And if you've ever been

An unconvincing spokesman in

A seminar and telling jokes

Naked and forgot your notes

We're in this together

Son, your beef is mine.

But if you ever died

Or ever genuinely tried

Or if you ever were denied

Your relevance or sense of pride

If you sputtered and you stuttered

And you tied yourself in knots

And under your breath you muttered

Something someone else forgot

And if you ever have

Missed your flight to Leningrad

Running down some airport stairs

Semen running down your leg

We're in this together

Son, your beef is mine

Well, who tells you to work?

"The devil."

Who tells you when you get a day off?

"The devil."

And who gives you your pay?

"The damn devil."

Aw, and who takes it away?

"The devil."

That pampered quarterback

Oh, he don't know how to act

Oh, he don't know how to throw

I want my f**king money back

Oh, I want to think without

Hearing my mind's mouth talk

Be neutered and lobotomized

And pushed out of a truck

And if you ever were

Somewhere where you never were

Inside someone else's skin

Stealing someone's self from him

We're in this together

Son, your beef is mine.

Your beef is mine.

Your beef is mine.

Your beef is mine.