It's not open to the public until spring
When the renovations are complete
It's not a bird, not a plane, or anything
It's the most wonderful thing we've ever seen
My life's work, my dream come true
It's the newest new and new
At this point, I'll have to tell you what it is
It's the museum of human suffering
We have splayed across the foyer, inordinately bled
The carcass of our saviour who rose from the dead
Victims of drought, and famine, and fetuses abandoned
Are waiting to be admired
And at the center, set to expire
My punctured bleeding heart of desire
Just for a minute, watch me, please
Oh, watch my heart bleed, tell me
Just for a minute, give it a squeeze
Feel my disease, remember me
Watch for a moment, shake my hand
Tell your son I was a great man
I'm able to forget in the company of others
And I'm able to forget in restaurants entries
To find myself with every breath
In every night, in every bed
In any hotel room in the world
She comes writhing back
Like a talented pestilence, she unzips the air
Like a virtuous pink iridescent sludge everywhere
I said, "Take me to your holy land
And take me by the hand"
And will you tell me
If Im remembered by the saints up there
If they've been to my famous museum
Just for a moment, just for a second
Just for a minute more, tell me
Just for a moment, just for a second
Everybody please, remember me
Take off my corpse, shake his hand
Tell your son, "He was a great man"
Paroles2Chansons dispose d’un accord de licence de paroles de chansons avec la Société des Editeurs et Auteurs de Musique (SEAM)
