A febrile shocking violent smack And the children are hoping for a heart-attack Tonight the windows are watching The streets all conspire And the lamppost can't stop crying If I could fly high above the world Would I see a bunch of living dots spell the word stupidity Or would I see hungry lover homicides Loving brother suicides and Ally Ally OxenfreesWho pick a side and hide? The world is scratching at my door My morning paper's got the scores The human interest stories And the obituary, oh yeah Cockroach naps, rattling traps How many devils can you fit upon a match head? Caringosity killed the Kerouac cat Sometimes truth is stranger than fiction In my alley around the corner There's a wino with feathered shoulders And a spirit giving head for crack and he'll never want it back There's a little kid and his family eating crackers like thanksgiving And a pack of wild desperadoes scornful of living The world is scratching at my door My morning paper has the scores The human interest stories And the obituary, oh yeah Cradle for a cat, Wolfe looks back How many angels can you fit upon a match? I want to know why Hemingway cracked Sometimes truth is stranger than fiction Life is the crummiest book I ever read There isn't a hook, just a lot of cheap shots Pictures to shock and characters an amateur Would never dream up Sometimes truth is stranger than fiction
A febrile shocking violent smack And the children are hoping for a heart-attack Tonight the windows are watching The streets all conspire And the lamppost can't stop crying If I could fly high above the world Would I see a bunch of living dots spell the word stupidity Or would I see hungry lover homicides Loving brother suicides and Ally Ally OxenfreesWho pick a side and hide? The world is scratching at my door My morning paper's got the scores The human interest stories And the obituary, oh yeah Cockroach naps, rattling traps How many devils can you fit upon a match head? Caringosity killed the Kerouac cat Sometimes truth is stranger than fiction In my alley around the corner There's a wino with feathered shoulders And a spirit giving head for crack and he'll never want it back There's a little kid and his family eating crackers like thanksgiving And a pack of wild desperadoes scornful of living The world is scratching at my door My morning paper has the scores The human interest stories And the obituary, oh yeah Cradle for a cat, Wolfe looks back How many angels can you fit upon a match? I want to know why Hemingway cracked Sometimes truth is stranger than fiction Life is the crummiest book I ever read There isn't a hook, just a lot of cheap shots Pictures to shock and characters an amateur Would never dream up Sometimes truth is stranger than fiction
