Well i was born in a ghost town where a cactus was my mom
And my dad was a gun-slinging criminal who was never really at home
But that was fine because i had my...

I had my...
I had my...
I had my...

Television to keep me company
Yes
Television to teach me what i need

And i sat there under the shade of my mother
Watching my cartoons, listening to my elvis records, or twiddling with my thumbs
Until the ghost of my fathers memory did spring up and he said he wanted to fight me

But i did not understand
And he said...
And he said...

And he said...
That you don't need to, understand why i must fight you
Just put up your hands

And then my gun-slinger dad he killed me and now i am stuck in hell
Where i sing over mono-rhythmic drum beats telling this story that i have to tell
But still they have television to keep me company

Even in hell
Televison to teach me what i need
Yay!


(away, away)
(save me)