The Blue Light

Your ethos

Your pathos

Your Porthos

Your Aramis

Your Brut Cologne

You're writing home

You are hopeless

Your hopelessness

Is rising around you, rising around you

You like it

It gives you something to do

In the day time

Hey buddy, you need a hobby

You are tired of moving forward

You think of the future

And secretly you piddle your pants

The puddle of piddle

Which used to be little

Is rising around you, rising around you

You like it

It gives you something to do

In the night time

Oh well, you travel to bars

You also go to Winchell's Doughnuts

And hang out with the Highway Patrol

Sometimes you'll go to a pizza place

You go to Shakey's to get that

American kind of pizza

That has the ugly, waxey, fake yellow

Kind of cheese on the top...

Maybe you'll go to Straw Hat Pizza,

To get all those artificial ingredients

That never belonged on a pizza in the first place

(But the white people really like it...)

Oh well, you'll go anyplace, you'll do anything

Oh you'll give me your underpants

I hope these aren't yours, buddy...

They're very nice, though

You go to Santa Monica Boulevard,

You go to the Blue Parrot

No problem, you'll go anyplace

You'll do anything

Just so you can hang out with the others

The others just like you

Afraid of the future

(Death Valley Days straight ahead)

The future is scary

(Yes it sure is)

Well, the puddle is rising

It smells like the ocean

A body of water to isolate England

And also Reseda

The oil in patches

All over Atlantis, Atlantis

You remember Atlantis

Donovan, the guy with the brocade coat

Used to sing to you about Atlantis

You loved it, you were so envolved then

That's back in the days when you used to

Smoke a banana

You would scrape the stuff off the middle

You would bake it

You would smoke it

You even thought you was getting ripped from it

No problem

Woop! Atlantis, they could really get down there

The plankton, the krill

The giant underwater pyramid, the squid decor

Excuse me, Todd

The big ol' giant underwater door

The dome, the bubbles, the blue light

Light, light, light, light

Light, light, light, light

Blue light blue light

The seepage, the sewage, the rubbers, the napkins

Your ethos, your Porthos,

Your flag pole, your port hole

Your language

You're frightened

The future

Your lang...

You can't even speak your own fucking language

You can't read it anymore

You can't write it anymore

Your language

The future of your language

Your meat loaf

Don't let your meat loaf

Heh, heh, heh

Your Micro-Nanette

Heh

Your Brut

Cologne