Chinese masseuse, comes between us
talks in haikus, plastic venus.
Got a headrush, in her pocket
two rubbers two lubes, and a silver rocket
Hang on, hang on
to your IQ, to your ID
hang on, hang on
to your IQ, to your ID
Im lonely
Every morning, my eyes will open wide
I gotta get high, before I go outside.
Roll another, for breakfast
burning clouds around, and in my solar plexus.
Hang on, hang on
to your IQ, to your ID
hang on, hang on
to your IQ, to your ID
Im lonely
Legs eleven, makes me stay up late
two fat ladies on my back, and now its 88.
Im a fool, whose tool is small
its so miniscule, its no tool at all.
hang on, hang on
to your IQ, to your ID
hang on, hang on
Im lonely
Oh.

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