"Im just here to hold your hand till you die
And to show you around imaginary places
Put money lumps in my bloody stump
And I will have a smile thats a perfect circle
Die in your sleep with the sky at your feet
Im shoot you when youre happy, only then will you find peace
How do you do, I dont know Im okay
Every person I know is a secret service agent
Because Ive been accused of lewd conduct
Stole the heart of a prude prom slut
And they got the warrant for my arrest to put me in the loony bin, the funny farm
Cuz of what I did
But Im just here to hold your hand as you die
There is not a single person who can do it better
No needle skipping in my ecosystem
But in the audience may be an evil Christian
HMO how I hate him so
(he)Wants to charge me for a halo
But Im on a scavenger hunt for a lavender chunk
Of the sky, maybe Ill replace it with a mud-pie
I put dead songs on a silk screen
Buy my shirt it is a killed dream
It is known to lead the way to the stairwell to Gods administrative office
And a final farewell
Im just here to hold your hand when you die
And to give your assault rifle a banana clip
Glow in the dark when I stroll in the park
Giving everybody informative pamphlets
No sign of life for as far as I can see
Everybodys just charred meat up in the car seat
Eat shit and die to the secret spy
Cuz I have a funny feeling that Im being watched
24-hour surveillance
Money or power are ailments
But I send the medical supplies and the shipping and the handling is way too much
Cuz Im from the Afterlife
Im just here to hold your hand when you die
Its like I put a cough drop right upon your soft spot
Make Martian clothes out of your garden hose
Turn into a deadly gas blown through the air duct
Shes not in love but I thought that she was
She doesnt love me because I dont have the right haircut
I misunderstood I should fix under the hood
But I will not apologize for anything that Ive said
My name is Mr. Busdriver, this is the producer Paris
We are not embarrassed to admit that we will perish in a pit of our own imaginary place"
Lyrics, from his MySpace:
"Im just here to hold your hand till you die And to show you around imaginary places Put money lumps in my bloody stump And I will have a smile thats a perfect circle Die in your sleep with the sky at your feet Im shoot you when youre happy, only then will you find peace How do you do, I dont know Im okay Every person I know is a secret service agent Because Ive been accused of lewd conduct Stole the heart of a prude prom slut And they got the warrant for my arrest to put me in the loony bin, the funny farm Cuz of what I did
But Im just here to hold your hand as you die There is not a single person who can do it better No needle skipping in my ecosystem But in the audience may be an evil Christian HMO how I hate him so (he)Wants to charge me for a halo But Im on a scavenger hunt for a lavender chunk Of the sky, maybe Ill replace it with a mud-pie I put dead songs on a silk screen Buy my shirt it is a killed dream It is known to lead the way to the stairwell to Gods administrative office And a final farewell
Im just here to hold your hand when you die And to give your assault rifle a banana clip Glow in the dark when I stroll in the park Giving everybody informative pamphlets No sign of life for as far as I can see Everybodys just charred meat up in the car seat Eat shit and die to the secret spy Cuz I have a funny feeling that Im being watched 24-hour surveillance Money or power are ailments But I send the medical supplies and the shipping and the handling is way too much Cuz Im from the Afterlife
Im just here to hold your hand when you die Its like I put a cough drop right upon your soft spot Make Martian clothes out of your garden hose Turn into a deadly gas blown through the air duct Shes not in love but I thought that she was She doesnt love me because I dont have the right haircut I misunderstood I should fix under the hood But I will not apologize for anything that Ive said My name is Mr. Busdriver, this is the producer Paris We are not embarrassed to admit that we will perish in a pit of our own imaginary place"