Chinese masseuse, comes between us
talks in haikus, plastic venus.
Got a headrush, in her pocket

two rubbers two lubes, and a silver rocket

Hang on, hang on

to your IQ, to your ID
hang on, hang on
to your IQ, to your ID


I'm lonely


Every morning, my eyes will open wide
I gotta get high, before I go outside.
Roll another, for breakfast

burning clouds around, and in my solar plexus.

Hang on, hang on

to your IQ, to your ID
hang on, hang on
to your IQ, to your ID


I'm lonely


Legs eleven, makes me stay up late
two fat ladies on my back, and now it's 88.
I'm a fool, whose tool is small

it's so miniscule, it's no tool at all.

hang on, hang on

to your IQ, to your ID
hang on, hang on
I'm lonely


Oh.