Lyrics At the Drive-In

At the Drive-In

Schaffino

this time i'm gonna take the collection baby

and with the money in my hand

i'm gonna purchase all the details

scrub you clean with my soap opera chirping

walking on tip-toed pickpocket fever

racing up the scales of your thermometer

turnbuckle tournicate clotting the moonshine

clotheslined seizures singing happy valentines

i found feathers in the hit and run nest

omerttas not a prayer on your rosary beads

when she knocked me over

i looked inside the hearse

sprouting chauvanistic swine

and written were the words

poking butter with this knife

allergic to this concubine

racing by in a '56 chevy

and we couldn't even pretend

to be alive...

i found feathers in the hit and run nest

scrub you clean with my soap opera chirping