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Listen to Suburbia Overture / Greetings from Mary Bell Township! / (Vampire) Culture / Love Me, Normally by Will Wood

Suburbia Overture / Greetings from Mary Bell Township! / (Vampire) Culture / Love Me, Normally

Will Wood

Singer/Songwriter

12,262

Apple Music Note

OVERVIEW

LYRICS

Music Video

Suburbia Overture / Greetings from Mary Bell Township! / (Vampire) Culture / Love Me, Normally

Watch Suburbia Overture / Greetings from Mary Bell Township! / (Vampire) Culture / Love Me, Normally on YouTube

Featured In

Listen to The Normal Album by Will Wood

ALBUMThe Normal AlbumWill Wood

Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS

Mario Conte

Drums

Matt Berger

Bass

Mike Bottiglieri

Mike Bottiglieri

Guitar

Richard Cush

Trombone

Robert Schaefer

Robert Schaefer

Trumpet

Seamus Ronan

Baritone Saxophone

Vater Boris

Bass

Will Wood

Piano

COMPOSITION & LYRICS

Will Wood

Songwriter

PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING

Jonathon Maisto

Jonathon Maisto

Mixing Engineer

Kevin Guillorn

Additional Engineer

Lyrics

Good morning!

White picket fences

Barbed wire and trenches

Trick or treat

Merry Christmas

Howdy, neighbor

Thank you, Jesus

Oh, what is he building in that painted lady?

A participation trophy wife or blonde, blue-eyed baby?

Wide-eyed and wired

The snap-crackle-pop of the Geiger

Camouflage billboards for lead-lined Brooks Brothers

You elbow the jukebox and sing "Duck and Cover"

And breed out our incisors, feed on white wine and Pfizer

It don't look like survival, b-but buy now or die

Suburbia

You're not alone

The lights are on

But no one's home

So, welcome home

Myers-Briggs, OKULTRA

Takes a village to fake a whole culture

Your ear to the playground, your eye on the ball

Your head in the gutter, your brains on the wall, oh well

Home is where the heart is

You ain't homeless, but you're heartless

It's the safest on the market

But you still gotta watch where you park it

So give me your half-life crisis

I can tell that you know where paradise is

Where parasites don't care what your blood type is

Only pheromones and serotonin decide

If it's true that a snowflake only matters in a blizzard

Everyone knows that nobody knows that

Everybody's all up in my, everybody's all up in my

Everybody's all up in my business

Suburbia

Where you belong

The lights are on

But no one's home

So, welcome home

Ch-ch-chameleon peacocks are talk of the town

Well word gets around on hit number stations

He cums radiation

The dog bites the postman while basement eyes dream

Of a night at the drive-in with an AR-15

I dropped my eyeballs in the bonfire, we fucked on a bed of nails

I caught Kuru from your sister and died laughing in jail

Smell those screaming teenage sweetbreads on the 4th of July grill

Smile and wave, boys, kiss the cook

Live laugh and love

Please pass the pills

It's only culture

It's only culture

It's only culture

Sulfur, smoke, and soot

You learned to torture house cats, like vultures

You cocked and sucked your lack of empathy

Pulled the trigger with your foot to prove you've got

Blood

Didn't they want your blood?

So why apologize for being blue and cold?

Blood

Didn't they want your blood?

So don't apologize for being blue and cold

It's only culture

It's only culture

It's only ah, ah, ah, ah

Culture's not your friend

Hey, fuck your culture

I ain't got no culture

It's only culture, and it's more afraid of you than you are of it

Go on, drink that

Blood

Didn't they want your blood?

So why apologize when you turn blue and cold?

Blood

Didn't they want your blood?

So don't apologize for being blue and cold

Were you Nabokov to a Salinger?

Were you Jung to Freud or Dass to a Leary?

Were you mother, daughter, subject, and author?

You don't make the rules, you just write them down and

Do it by the book you throw around

Do you know the difference between blazing trails and slash-and-burn?

Going against the grain and catching splinters?

You pull out your Rorschach like a paint-by-numbers treasure map

The ink upon on your jigsaw piece trace you back to your fingerprints

Well, Lot, he had his lot in life

Job his job and I guess you'll too, and die

The Lord looked down and said, "hey, you're only mortal"

Giveth and taketh away 'till things come out a certain way

Leave you wondering when they might go back to normal

Leave you wondering why they can't have just been normal

Written by: Will Wood

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