The Pricks

Do you speak English? Not tonight

I speak Yiddish and reflect the light

I am a line to your fist

Whether it's heartfelt or sadistic

A crack to the chin in a blaze of glory

Knockout blood nose, dreamed little Georgie

Well, little Georgie got short legs and his skin's turned pink

He sounds like a trumpet wearing a wig

In the bin, oh, little Georgie's in the bin

Oh, I quivered and I melt

I cracked my head on the floor

And then I shook and I twitched

And bile leaked out the door

And then I flew to my feet

And I feathered my wings

I battered some balls in an undressing

And then I ran hard, hard like a fist

Into the pricks, into the pricks, oh, the pricks

Ooh

Do you speak English? Not today

I speak quickly, and I speak far away

I speak okay, but not all the time

Sometimes, I'm like ice, other times, I'm on fire

But sometimes, I'm the pricks

Oh, I got myself bad chips

Georgie fell off the ball just a little after I did

But Georgie's chips were awful

They stank like the poison and looked like nothing but lumps

Which grew and grew, almost made me turn blue

But cancer is immune to me and you

Cancer is immune to me and you

Cancer is immune to me and you

Hello, how are you?

How do you do?