Salutations,
From our greater northwest ally and
Reservations,
At the Cosa Nostra steak house 8 P.M.

You got your rickety bones I got my rickety hands
You got your rickety bones I got my rickety hands
You got your rickety bones I got my rickety hands
I’m turning into some dust
I’m turning into some bats

Medication,
And the way your eyes look into me,
Lubrication,
Can you turn off all the lights so I can’t see?

You got your rickety bones I got my rickety hands
You got your rickety bones I got my rickety hands
You got your rickety bones I got my rickety hands
I’m dressing up like the Crow
I’m turning into some rats

X-O, X-O, X-O, X-O,
X-O, X-O, X-O, X-O!

You got your rickety bones I got my rickety hands
He’s got your rickety bones I got my rickety hands
They got your rickety bones I got my rickety hands
I’m turning into some wolves
I’m dressing up like a cat
You got your rickety bones I got my rickety hands
You got your rickety bones I got my rickety hands
You got your rickety bones I got my rickety hands
I’m so fucking old
I’m so fucking alone