What will you sell With the glasses and suit Heart and soul It won't wear out
That's not enough I want what's inside Fish fillet knife would cut right through my eyes
I'm looking for some words To call my own Not worn-out phrases and hand-me-downs
They'll knock me In where I stand Put on its back In a corned beef can
I'm going under You can feel them stripping me down To the rust inside
This is the way Frankenstar is born
From bits and pieces others have worn All held together by a management glue Too much glue, and the stars turn blue Turn blue Turn blue Turn blue Turn blue
I'm going under You can feel them pulling me down To the holes inside
