Saddle up the month of Sundays
Saddle up your orphan's blues
Roll back the tides
Wheel in the supplies
We're down on 8th Avenue

I don't wanna show your mother
How to cook your father's eggs
If you feel a phoney
All alone and lonely
Maybe it's all in your head

Sitting in the corner
You complain and complain and complain
If you're feeling horny
Get laid

I know what you people want
You're all too fucking tasteful for me
Do you think it's cool to drain the swimming pool?
Put a padlock on the swings?

You laugh at us because we're different
But we laugh at you 'cause you're all the same
And the parasites will love you when you're in your grave

Sitting in the corner
You complain and complain and complain
If you're feeling horny
Get laid