The singer of the band Has been encased In a circuit board formed From arsenic and old lace. The piano has been dropped A see-note hits the cop So he would turn away While we're cleaning up the slop. This is the bishop's finger This is the bishop's hand Onto Jesus' body The people place demands. They're pointing with their pistols While we're reaching for the sky The soundtrack of their lives Is an eye for an eye... hail hail the talk show Cocked after cocktails I lied and I lied... God save the techno The sequencers don't know When it died, when it died... edison put the gun in our hands The black bear put The muzzle to its muzzle. The dogwood didn't care But the maple was troubled. Trademark, this is a trademark This move was trademarked in 1883.