Well all's not well
|
but i'm told that it'll all be quite nice
|
you'll be drowned in boots like Mafia
|
but your feet will still float like Christ's
|
and i'll be damned
|
they were right
|
i'm drowning upside down
|
my feet afloat like Christ's
|
i'm in heaven
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trying to figure out which stack
|
they're going to stuff us atheists into
|
when Peter and his monkey laugh
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and i laugh with them
|
i'm not sure what at
|
they point and say
|
we'll keep you in the back
|
polishing halos, baking manna and gas
|
well some guy comes in looking a bit like everyone i ever seen
|
he moves just like crisco disco
|
breath 100% listerine
|
he says looking at something else
|
but directing everything to me
|
ever time anyone gets on their knees to pray
|
well it makes my telephone ring
|
and i'll be damned
|
he said you were right
|
no one's running this whole thing
|
he had a theory too
|
he said that god takes care of himself
|
and you of you
|
it's all nice on ice alright
|
and it's not day
|
and it's not night
|
but it's all nice on ice alright
|
|
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|
Styrofoam Boots / It's All Nice On Ice, Alright
|
| Modest Mouse |
