Thought Industry - Love Is America Spelled Backwards lyrics

"My girlfriend and I are quite poor. So we crash funeral gatherings for the free food Hell, everybody's so busy crying and consoling; they don't even notice us in the coatroom pillaging their clothes and purses It's too bad that you can't run very far on an orbiting space colony." I) Garden Greenroom, Battle Creek Funeral Simulation Type writehead collide Tap tap paper tie Prolific benign. Fill me throat cheap rye I breathe a funeral foyer Me with glue girl Margaret Now she's kissing me We drink gin till we can't see Pâté brunch for symposium Pink balloons drape the coffins It reads no systole I spill scotch on the body sh** smile prom night Rational hick life Self-hypnosis guide Exuberance lactize I hear a song on the radio So I spit on the dial Now she's kissing me We snort scotch till we're plastic There's a gimp with a yo-yo who say's Pepsi owns Tokyo He says pardon me Let's bury the body Hey, hey let's drive to the grave Now our cars are a gay parade He says, "Hey, hey Let's drive to the grave We'll bury meat on a rainy day." Human Landfill I trip to walk Margaret hands me a Librium, I say "thanks for the confidence " Now she's kissing me, my flask of Chaska's empty I stumble up to the podium, and push down the Reverend They'll yell, "Eulogy" So I pa** out on the body Hey, hey fill in the grave Shovel mud on a deity I say, "Hey, hey Fill in the grave, then steal the collection tray Pack some mud on the pious meat Pack some mud on Uncle Sam God bless the grime