Lyrics

It's too hot babe, pull the covers back Don't touch me babe, I don't remember ever liking that Don't touch me babe, roll over O brother, you don't know what you've got, only time flies... You've gotta do some clockwork Sometimes you hear the broken bell sound up on the whore's hill The ladies clamor for the Salvo's sale, bickering like little girls For second hand womens' things, for countless prying mans' hands O working girl, you don't get round enough, it's like yr daddy says... You gotta do some clockwork (in a berth of the port wharf the song of the penitent sailor... upon What stage? A slab in the gut of a Japanese whaler... a material blue And tailored and time is a tailor... both brief and slow.) Now I can hear the broken bell Now I can hear the clockwork It has me reaching for the hidden rail It has me listening for the song bird But I hear it very minor But I hear it very minor... O singer, I don't believe your song, or your lying lines O singer, I don't believe your song, or your lying lines... You've gotta do some clockwork: The Pneuma, Cecilian, the Metzler, Angelus, Virtuos, Apollo, Paragon, Minerva, Stella Clockwork, all clockwork O but I didn't write this song with a machine And I don't know how to stop it from its accidental purpose