With a wide and gaping hole of a smile He prances and parades these streets of gold On every corner of every street of every town It's the same twitching face What secrets may he hold? He is omnipresent Cultivating filth by offering abundance While instigating fear with every word he says He prances and dances naked in the girls locker room Just for the kick of debasing the place And he's got a railgun Clear the station Camouflaged in your spinster mother's death mask Shitting bricks and minced meat worms and dripping blood Hope to god the TV news man wasn't lying And he's returned to rig the game, to take us far Behind the wheel a strong will and sheer perversion Making progress, dwells in everything bizarre A new improved edition of Ed Kemper's version Just take a look how dead and sick we really are And he's got a railgun Clear the station