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You better make your face up, |
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In your favorite disguise, |
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With your button-down lips, |
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And your roller blind eyes. |
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With your empty smile, |
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And your hungry heart, |
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Feel the bile rising, |
|
Frome your guilty past. |
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With your nerves in tatters. |
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As the cockleshell shatters, |
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And the hammers batter, |
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Down your door, |
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You better run. |
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You better run all day, |
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And run all night. |
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And keep your dirty feelings deep inside. |
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And if you're taking your girlfriend out tonight, |
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You better park the car well out of sight. |
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'Cause if they catch you in the back seat, |
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Trying to pick her lock, |
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They're gonna send you back to Mother, |
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In a cardboard box. |
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You better run ! |
