Bored holes through our tongues
To sing a song about it
Held our breath for too long
'til we're half sick about it

Tell us what we did wrong
And you can blame us for it
Turn a clamp on our thumbs
We'll sew a doll about it
And tell us all about it

How 'bout some credit now
Where credit is due
For the damage that we've done
Wrought upon ourselves and others
With a slow and vicious gun
And although pratfalls can be fun
Encores can be fatal
And then I hear you say

Thank god it's fatal
Not shy
Not shy of fatal
Thank god
Wait just a second now
It's not all that bad
Are we not having fun?

You're making mountains of handkerchiefs
Where the mascara [bad word] 

So be careful when you're done
You're bound to get post-natal

What did I just hear you say?

Thank god it's fatal
We don't want to hear the sound of a door
And we don't want to read the signs that you bore

You know the kind of sign you hang on a door

Saying we'll be back what a crack
Don't you think we might have heard that before?