We got rows, we got rows as far as we can see
In the dust we can see your catastrophe
Shining dimly like a mudslick in the sun

Sparks fly from their eyes
Birds fly from their mouths
Echoing off this procession is a sound
Never to be found

With a tip of the hat we would exit here
Off you go with a pie on your face
Down the road we can see the electric chair
Who'll be the first?  I don't know, it's a race.

With a drop of the fly we should exit here
Off you go with the crumbs on your face
One-eyed clown in the road with electric hair
At his best he's a total disgrace