Wild vanilla Clean dreams, downcast eyes If you lived here you'd be home now and suicidal That was one striking phone call boy Your voice at a fever pitch And here I thought that you'd just, Full of white noise, called to bitch You messing with my head makes a terrible noise Wild vanilla Clean eyes and greasy hair Cross an ocean and you, Vague and itchy, belong there You are whizzing past my ears A shit-scared domestic god You make the gypsy in me horny for a flower garden You messing with my head makes a terrible noise