I drive a small-scale Lotus Elise
and it rides the grooves in all my LPs
I have no need to gauge my speed
I use the RPM 45 or 33
And though my instincts make me want to go out,
I melt into the seatbelt and never leave the house
I have a tomb built into my room
They say you can't take it with you...well, I'll find out soon
I'll bring Tea For the Tillerman and a beat-up copy of Abacab
actual passion and a pop smash-and-grab
And though my instincts make me want to go out,
my feet are stuck in the mud of the grave of my house
It's like
they took their mouths and shoved them in my head
and now, I take all my heroes to bed
To all of them: I sent your dentures back
and now I'm on my own