Spikes To You

'A' frames, statuettes, sunset magazine, they're lining up to do their jobs

But I swear to god I seen: bits and guts and pieces hanging from the trees,

Stumpy mow the lawn, c'mon, ya gotta bare piece a' ground. Pour some

Concrete, buy a sofa, lay yer body down... your kids are fucking in your

Garbage, they're waiting for your job, got the mouthes around your

Paycheck, got joyticks for your saws.