As you body floats down Third Street
With the burn-smell factory closing up
Yes it’s sad to say you will romanticize
All the things you’ve known before
It was not so great
And as you take a bath in that beaten path
There’s a pounding at the door
It’s a mighty zombie talking of some love and posterity
He says «The good old days never say good-bye
If you keep this in your mind:
You need some loving arms»
And as you fall from grace the only words you say are
Put your hand inside the puppet head
Ads up in the subway are the work of someone
Trying to please their boss
And though the guy’s a pig we all know what he wants
Is just to please somebody else
If the puppet head was only busted in
It would be a better thing for everyone involved
And we wouldn’t have to cry
Put your hand inside the puppet head
Quit my job down at the carwash
Didn’t have to write no-one a good-bye note
That reads: «That check’s in the mail, and
I’ll see you in church, and don’t you ever change»
If the puppet head was only busted in
I’ll see you after school
Put your hand inside the puppet head