The muzik

Oh, Vera, my sweet I would offer you some meat
In exchange for a good loaf of wax
I would smear it on you and on all your apples too
If I thought it would help you relax
But the bones in the ground, well, they never make a sound
And the bones in the ground are all fine
And the bones in the air, well, they haven't got a care
And the bones in the air are all mine
Oh, shiny Maureen, won't you tell me where you've been?
And I'll work out where you should be now
In a cluster of apes that do rub themselves with grapes
You'll be tied to the back of a cow
But the bones in the ground, well, they never make a sound
And the bones in the ground are all fine
And the bones in the wind, Lord, have mercy how they grinned
And the bones in the wind are all mine
Oh, Paula Lorraine, won't you comment on my sprain?
And I'll shave you in some cozy church
I don't care what you're called, I just wanna shave you bald
And I'll know that I've finished my search
But the bones in the ground, well, they never make a sound
And the bones in the ground are all fine
And the bones in the air, well, they sing a rattling air
And the bones in the air are all mine