Lyrics

[Verse 1] The court has been made Kind of real through ritual But up close I found the kings hands tiny In Sams redeeming qualities I tried on My dad's white turtle neck Tucked it in as if I'd tried on his tipton belly I removed every single photograph Of the crucifixion From the National Gallery Stashed 'em all under my raincoat Bounced right out that front door Heads up, aware to not smirk or hurry The baby faced security guard 'No problem' Absorbed in a picture book on sharks There'll be no more proof Any of it ever happened Like there was never even any crucifixion Tried to sell them as forgeries Eating myself sick on three cheese At our open end [Outro] Oh, fromage and public loneliness Flipped a big plastic bucket Got myself an ottoman Oh, fromage and public loneliness Oh, fromage and public loneliness Oh, fromage and public loneliness Oh, fromage and public loneliness