Some people have teeth
Made out of gold
Some people are in prison
Some (?)

On the edge of taste and decency is where I reside
I'm a holy man, you can see what's inside
Another sausage sandwich on another cold day

What are all the little boys afraid of?

These hands, these terrible hands
These hands, these terrible hands

I wish I wasn't socially inept
In every single way
My life adds up to less and less
With each passing day

I wish I wasn't devoid
Of any ambition
I wish I understood
Nuclear fission

What are all the little boys afraid of?
These hands, these terrible hands
These hands, these terrible hands
These hands, these terrible hands
These hands, these terrible hands