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I drive a small-scale Lotus Eliseand it rides the grooves in all my LPsI have no need to gauge my speedI use the RPM 45 or 33And though my instincts make me want to go out,I melt into the seatbelt and never leave the houseI have a tomb built into my roomThey say you can't take it with you...well, I'll find out soonI'll bring Tea For the Tillerman and a beat-up copy of Abacabactual passion and a pop smash-and-grabAnd though my instincts make me want to go out,my feet are stuck in the mud of the grave of my houseIt's likethey took their mouths and shoved them in my headand now, I take all my heroes to bedTo all of them: I sent your dentures backand now I'm on my own From Letras Mania