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Verse 1:
Ring out the gong again!
Carve out this hymn in skin!
When the party blacks out again
you`re still eating headlines out of the newspaper bin.
Slap the gong again!
Carve out this hymn in skin!

Chorus:
Happy birthday gelatins smearing bruises on your chin.
There`s cake but no mouth, conch but no sound,
glossy skeletons boyfriends but no friends.

Verse 2:
Ring out the gong again!
Carve out this hymn in skin!
When they`ve pissed between every sheet of your father`s bed
those tears have barcodes waiting to be scanned/scammed.
And when they`ve hurled every gutted couch cushion
from the living room into your fathers swimming pool,
you`re bobbing chlorine apples in the broth bucket of envy`s gruel.

Chorus:
Happy birthday gelatins smearing bruises on your chin.
There`s cake but no mouth, conch but no sound,
glossy skeletons boyfriends but no friends.

Coda:
Ring! Ring! Ring out the gong!
Son now you`ve made it to the top of their list.
Congradulations your fucking`s greatest hit!

Afterward:
Behind husks of leather, photo albums sheild their laughter.
You thought they`d make you breakfast the morning after?
Your fantasy season gangrened off the calander.

Verse 1:
Ring out the gong again!
Carve out this hymn in skin!
When the party blacks out again
you`re still eating headlines out of the newspaper bin.
Slap the gong again!
Carve out this hymn in skin!

Chorus:
Happy birthday gelatins smearing bruises on your chin.
There`s cake but no mouth, conch but no sound,
glossy skeletons boyfriends but no friends.

Verse 2:
Ring out the gong again!
Carve out this hymn in skin!
When they`ve pissed between every sheet of your father`s bed
those tears have barcodes waiting to be scanned/scammed.
And when they`ve hurled every gutted couch cushion
from the living room into your fathers swimming pool,
you`re bobbing chlorine apples in the broth bucket of envy`s gruel.

Chorus:
Happy birthday gelatins smearing bruises on your chin.
There`s cake but no mouth, conch but no sound,
glossy skeletons boyfriends but no friends.

Coda:
Ring! Ring! Ring out the gong!
Son now you`ve made it to the top of their list.
Congradulations your fucking`s greatest hit!

Afterward:
Behind husks of leather, photo albums sheild their laughter.
You thought they`d make you breakfast the morning after?
Your fantasy season gangrened off the calander.

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