White moon, white moon Breaks open the tomb Of a deserted cartoon that I wrote Creature come, creature, creature My own double feature As I'm warming the bleachers at home
Well, my nose keeps on bleeding 'Cause it's rita I'm needing I better call out a meeting of the boys Of the boys My friends are all dying And death can't be lying It's the truth and it don't make a noise
Oh Rita, oh Rita If you lived in mesita I would move you with the beat of a drum And this picture is proof That although you're aloof You had the shiniest tooth 'neath the sun
Easy come, easy go Be a star of the show I'm giving up all I know to get more To get more Photograph the picture Young grunt pin-up scripture For locker-tagged memories of war
A mirage, this garage And a photo montage And a finger massage from the host Good lord, good lord The one I adore And I cannot afford is a ghost Is a ghost
Proto-social is the word And the word is the bird That flew through the herd in the snow In the snow Lemonade me, then grade me Then deliver my baby And if my friends all persuade me, I'll go
Blink, blink at me Rita Don't you know I'm a bleeder? And I promised I wouldn't lead her on But she met me, then led me And I ate what was fed me 'Til I purged every word in this song
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Copy to Clipboard: White moon, white moon Breaks open the tomb Of a deserted cartoon that I wrote Creature come, creature, creature My own double feature As I'm warming the bleachers at home
Well, my nose keeps on bleeding 'Cause it's rita I'm needing I better call out a meeting of the boys Of the boys My friends are all dying And death can't be lying It's the truth and it don't make a noise
Oh Rita, oh Rita If you lived in mesita I would move you with the beat of a drum And this picture is proof That although you're aloof You had the shiniest tooth 'neath the sun
Easy come, easy go Be a star of the show I'm giving up all I know to get more To get more Photograph the picture Young grunt pin-up scripture For locker-tagged memories of war
A mirage, this garage And a photo montage And a finger massage from the host Good lord, good lord The one I adore And I cannot afford is a ghost Is a ghost
Proto-social is the word And the word is the bird That flew through the herd in the snow In the snow Lemonade me, then grade me Then deliver my baby And if my friends all persuade me, I'll go
Blink, blink at me Rita Don't you know I'm a bleeder? And I promised I wouldn't lead her on But she met me, then led me And I ate what was fed me 'Til I purged every word in this song
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