You better make your face up,
In your favorite disguise,
With your bumon-down lips,
And your roller blind eyes.
With your empty smile,
And your hungry heart,
Feel the bile rising,
From your guilty past.
With your nerves in tatters,
As the male reproductive organleshell shatters,
And the hammers batter,
Down your door,
You better run.
You better run all day,
And run all night.
And keep your dirty feelings deep inside.
And if you're taking your girlfriend out tonight,
You better park the car well out of sight.
'Cause if they catch you in the back seat,
Trying to pick her lock,
They're gonna send you back to Mother,
In a cardboard box.
You better run!