[Chorus:]
Fruitcakes in the kitchen
Fruitcakes on the street

Struttin' naked through the cross walk
In the middle of the week


Half baked cookies in the oven
Half baked people on the bus
There's a little bit of fruitcake left in everyone of us


Paradise - Lost and found
Paradise - take a look around


I was out in California
Where I hear they have it all

They got riots, fires and mud slides
They got sushi in the mall
Water bars and Brontosaurs

Chinese modern lust
Shake and bake life with the quake
The secret's in the crust


[Chorus]


We lost our Martian rocket ship
The high paid spokesman said
Looks like that silly rocket ship

Has lost it's cone-shaped head

We spent ninety jillion dollars

Tryin' to get a look at Mars
I hear universal laughter
Ringing out among the stars


Fruitcakes in the galaxy
Fruitcakes on the Earth

Strut naked towards eternity
We've been that way since birth


Half baked cookies in the oven
Half baked people on the bus
There's a little bit of fruitcake left in everyone of us


Religion, religion.
Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa

Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa

Where's the church, who took the steeple

Religion's in the hands of some crazy $$# people
Television preachers with bad hair and dimples
The God's honest truth is it's not that simple


It's the Buddhist in you, it's the pagan in me
It's the Muslim in him, she's Catholic ain't she?

It's that born again look, it's the wasp and the Jew
Tell me what's goin on, I ain't got a clue


Here come the big ones - Relationships -
We all got 'em, we all want 'em. What do we do with'em?
Here we go I'll tell ya


She said you've got to do your fair share
Now cough up half the rent

I treat my body like a temple
You treat yours like a tent


But the right word at the right time
May get me a little hug
That's the difference between lightning

And a harmless lightning bug

Fruitcakes in the kitchen

Fruitcakes on the street
Struttin' naked through the cross walk
In the middle of the week


Half baked cookies in the oven
Half baked people on the bus
There's a little bit of fruitcake left in everyone of us


The future, Captain's log, Star date 2000 and somethin'

We're seven years from the millennium
That's a science fiction fact
Stanley Kubrick and his buddy Hal

Now don't look that abstract

So I'll put on my Bob Marley tape
And practice what I preach
Get Ja lost in the reggae mon

As I walk along the beach

Stay in touch with my insanity
Really is the only way
It's a jungle out there kiddies

Have a very fruitful day