Pavlov's Daughter
The grave diggers getting stuck in the machinePicking getting slim, slimmerI hear them say my nameRegin-ah, regin-ah, regin-a-ah
Yes I'm putting the boulder to my earAnd I still can't hearWhadya think I was an amateurPlayin' with my temperature...
If I hear another song about angelsIf I see another feather on the dumb-boxI'm gonna go to Babylon and get me some whiskeyGonna go to Babylon and get me some whiskey now...If I hear another song about angelsIf I see another feather on the dumb-boxI'm gonna go to Babylon and get me some whiskeyOh get me some whiskey, get me some whisky, get me some whiskey now
My name is Lucille and I know how you feelI live downstairsI hear you taking out your garbageI hear you loving your girlfriendI hear you loving yourself tooI hear you flushing your tolietI hear you turning your thoughts offI turn mine off tooThe only thing I hear is youAnd you don't sound nice and you don't sound rightAnd you don't sound good and you don't sound right
My name is Lucille and I know how you feelI live downstairsI hear you taking out your garbageI hear you loving your girlfriendI hear you loving yourself tooI hear you turning your thoughts offOh, I hear you turning your thoughts offAnd it get's quiet...
Pavlov's daughter woke up in the morningHeard the bell ringAnd something deep inside of her made her want to salivateSo she lay there drooling on her pillowSo she lay there, the sun skimming her skin,And, and...drooling on her pillowPavlov's daughterAnd it was far away and hazy like a dreamNot a dream, not a dream,But the ocean, not the ocean,But forever...
The grave diggers getting stuck in the machinePicking getting slim, slimmerI hear them say my nameRegin-ah, regin-ah, regin-a-ah
Yes I'm putting the boulder to my earAnd I still can't hearWhadya think I was an amateurPlayin' with my temperature...
If I hear another song about angelsIf I see another feather on the dumb-boxI'm gonna go to Babylon and get me some whiskeyGonna go to Babylon and get me some whiskey now...If I hear another song about angelsIf I see another feather on the dumb-boxI'm gonna go to Babylon and get me some whiskeyOh get me some whiskey, get me some whisky, get me some whiskey now
My name is Lucille and I know how you feelI live downstairsI hear you taking out your garbageI hear you loving your girlfriendI hear you loving yourself tooI hear you turning your thoughts offI hear you turning your thoughts offAnd I turn mine off tooThe only thing I hear is youAnd you don't sound nice and you don't sound rightAnd you don't sound good and you don't sound right
My name is Lucille and I know how you feelI live downstairsI hear you taking out your garbageI hear you loving your girlfriendI hear you loving yourself tooI hear you turning your thoughts offI hear you turning your thoughts offIt get's quiet...
As quiet as an ambulance checking out the neighborhood,Waiting for the blade to slip and that final blow,But nothing happens, it's a cruel jokeAs ironic as a ticker tape parade over the rain forest,As ironic as a ticker tape parade over my head,As ironic as a ticker tape parade over my headGoing down stream...To where...it isn't... even... real...rain... at...all...