Hey Mr. Chips, how's the wife?

And are the kids still poison? Do you still eat them?


Been under the gun, running the guns


Say how'd this world get so $#&@ing fun all of a sudden?




Here's a quarter for the phone


Why don't you call someone and find out?

How it is we can all belong to something that


No one wants any part of?




One day you'll wake up


And they'll be advertising on police cars


And your death will sell you out

As someone smart, somewhat smart





Baby, don't get out out of bed

Just lay back down your pretty head


And they're advertising on police cars




Hey Mr. Chips, had me a notion


Like a burning sky dropped to the ocean


A bitter pill, is it better still to lay undone your guts for show?

To reconstruct some of your bones? To turn it up?


When it calls to you will you wake up?




They're advertising on police cars


Your death will sell you out as someone smart


Somewhat smart




Baby, don't get out of bed


Just lay back down your pretty head

They're advertising on police cars