Pull me into your coloring books
Lead me into your bright adventures
Kiss me under the mistletoe
Open mouth on my brand new dentures

A terrible cliche
The product of parents
Who met in the future
And moved to the past

Make me into your kettle drum
Turn me into your black percussion
Pull me into your parking shed
Make believe I'm your second cousin

Because I'm a salesman
Who stepped on the pavement
And fell on landmine
Instead of his face

All big men have a gravity
That draws them to the sun
And gives them their authority
And gives them their control
All big men have a gravity
That draws them to the sun
And gives them their authority
And gives them their control
How soon is not?