Ooh, poor Mr. Loach, he's polite beyond reproach
And he thanks them all for fucking up his brain
Claims he's found the answer, not in Christ and not in cancer
But she's floating in a vat of rotting grain
Anesthetized
Old lady Seaver, she's so handy with a cleaver
And she cuts the finger sandwiches with care
Her children ran away, now she's taken in some stray
He's always hiding firecrackers in her hair
Anesthetized, they find it thrilling
Track it down, don't try to kill it
God looks on, no comment either way
Anesthetized, they find it thrilling
Track it down, don't try to kill it
God looks on, no comment either way
Anesthetized
Dear Johnny Crayon, in his technicolor rayon
All the kids at school they call him
Cartoon queer, ka-ka-ka-ka-QUEER!
Found his incision, now they've sent him off to prison
And his cellmate's pouring lava in his ears
Anesthetized, they find it thrilling
Track it down, don't try to kill it
God looks on, no comment either way
Anesthetized, they find it thrilling
Track it down, don't try to kill it
God looks on, no comment either way
Anesthetized!
Anesthetized!
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