He spoke a script, dipped in the sort of talk to make you keep the gaze,
it's all a trick, his slick back slimy arms have got a war to wage,
He's got a laugh like a crackling wire,
and he wants to put the bite marks on you,
He wants to put the bite marks on you, and it twists my guts
because the only things as repelling as his invitations,
are his excuses as he says
I am the conducter, put me in the terror pocket
First part of verse riff
He did a stint, master in a craft, He squints through his spectacle,
He'd drop a dirty hint if he thinks that he can impress you with the unacceptable,
and He has turned through all the pages with his fingers,
and covered them with goo,
He wants to put the bite marks on you,
He wants to put them on you and it hurts my back,
because the only thing that's as heavy as the adoration,
Is the days of hanging out on his arm,
and it's been a long sounding alarm,
and he frightened me to death when he said
I am the conducter put me in the terror pocket
Intro Riff and Verse Riff
Trying to give me and ticket to a competition,
and I don't know how the odds are stacked,
as they're rolling out the running track