Walking over moon space
writing your name
your smile and your face
the words that meddle
with the mind of the whole human race
spin that thing
make it turn
make it thin
the walk in the mezzanine
the waiters who taste the maison du jour
pancakes and cabriolet assured
mixture of fake baked bread
the lies of the scheming mouths of the dead
spin that thing
make it turn
make it spin
the worst man in the world
took a road from which nobody returned
he had several thousand offerings
and withheld his permission when they
all asked him to own up to his offspring
spin that thing
make it round and round and round and round
spin that thin
turn that spin thing thing
the biggest joke in the bar
walked up and spoke to the man on the door
get your things he said out loud
and the bouncer took him down south
The man in the park walks his dog
and the dog smells the ground
senses trouble all around
and buries the bones the man threw
down
the dj on the table in the corner
licks disks as they roll on the drum
he spins the sounds like a web
catching flys in the mouth
the wet shirts stick to the skin
spin that thing
spin that thing