In lonely gas stations with mini-marts
You'll find rows of them for sale
Liquor-filled statues of Elvis Presley
Screw his head off and drink like a vampire
His disciples flock to such a fitting shrine
Sprawled across from his graceless mansion
A shopping mall
Filled with prayer rugs and Elvis dolls
And I wonder
Yeah, I wonder
Will Elvis take the place of Jesus in a thousand years?
Religious wars
Barbaric laws
Bloodshed worldwide over what's left of his myth
A growing boy needs his lunch
A growing boy needs his lunch
When pesticides get banned, we're safe up north
We'll just sell them to those other countries
Soon there's lots of exotic deformed babies
Somehow that's not our fault
Just dip them in glaze
Paint 'em orange and green
For the Arizona roadside stands
To sell alongside plaster burros and birdbaths
And I wonder
Yeah, I wonder
Why so many insects around us feed off the dead?
Death squads
Starvation
Foreign aid? Just leave it to the magic of the marketplace
A growing boy needs his lunch
A growing boy needs his lunch
Everyone should just love each other
Dip your toe into the fire
Drop your guns and lawsuits and love each other
Life begins beyond the bunker
And while you're busy hugging in the streets
Outgrowing your hatred for all to feel
Jiminy Cricket's found a game to play
Stick your neck out and trust, it'll be chopped away
Jimmy through your locked front doors
And rifle through your sacred drawers
Line my pockets, deface your dreams
'Til the cows come home to me
To me!
All for me!
Nibbling like an earwig winding through your brain
Bound like Laurence Harvey spread-eagle to a bed
Migraine gets worse when you find out they lay eggs
And no one in all of Borneo can hear you scream
Scream!
A growing boy needs his lunch
A growing boy needs his lunch
A growing boy needs his lunch
Turn on
Tune in
Cop out
Dropkick, turn in, tune out