What will you sell with the glasses and suit
Heart and soul, it won't wear out
That's not enough I want what's inside
Fish fillet knife would cut right through my eyes

I'm looking for some words to call my own
Not worn-out phrases and hand-me-downs
They'll knock me in where I stand
Put on its back in a corned beef can

I'm going under
You can feel them stripping me down
To the rust inside

This is the way Frankenstein is born
From bits and pieces others have worn
All held together by a management glue
Too much glue and the stars turn blue
Turn blue
Turn blue
Turn blue
Turn blue

I'm going under
You can feel them pulling me down
To the holes inside

I, I, I, I...