[CHORUS]
You are the apple in my eye,
you are the cream that takes the cake.
One time I fell and broke my hip,
one time I made a big mistake.
But, when the musty curtain falls,
and danger's underneath the room,
would you still kiss me at my funeral?

As I lay me down to sleep,
I pray the lord my soul to keep.
It's only natural, I suppose, these days
to give it all away.
But, child, If I die before my wake,
I beg the lord for birthday cake,
and I'll stuff my face and leave a little bit
in a napkin for the kids.

One time, a man of about 42
knocked on my door in churlish June.
I guess I asked him to come in,
but then again it's not for sure.
He begged me for a little thumb
of pancake and some spearmint gum.
Why would I even bother feeding him if he didn't come?

[CHORUS]

There are several kinds of people.
Some are flight, some don't care,
and there's a little bit of everybody
loitering by the stairs.
And, in the middle of a switch between
the poor and middle class,
there isn't everybody singing like a robin.

I wouldn't want for you a roller coaster
that howls and whines and moans,
like a train on tracks that dominate
and break it's little bones.
Behind the screaming about taxes
and the silence about death,
you've got to tie your shoes and reprimand the whistle.

[CHORUS]

In the back behind a seedy bar
the dumpster's crying out.
He says, "The only way to live these days
is garbage in your mouth."
Well, listen up my twinkling friends,
you might seem t understand him
but I want you all to look at where he comes from.

In a broken chair with a melting mug,
she stares beyond the pond.
I think she's going to let her pants out
by the springtime.
But the changing themes in Jesus dreams,
tapped in motorcycle indigo,
are the only thing releasing from the ether.

[CHORUS]

A collection of important books
from 1644,
in the basement by the window,
have the secrets that you're looking for.
But let me offer you alternatives,
and alternative alternatives,
and then maybe we could go outside and kick around a ball.

Thinking about the time
that I saw his mother die,
and the way that we shared that for a lifetime,
I figure now and once again that it is written on my head,
and that no man alive will ever take that from me.

[CHORUS]

I know you think it's foolish,
how I fill this broken cup.
The way you writhe and carry on,
I know you've really had enough.
But when the dripping finally ceases,
and the substance all releases,
I doubt that you would really be that satisfied.

So, tickle me once, tickle me twice,
and send me off to war.
I see you in my bedroom,
scouring my floor.
But you're not going to find me there,
you'll just find a little hair,
and a gorgeous rug with really dirty fabrics.

[CHORUS]