“
Life's just a mood ring we're not allowed to see.
— They Might Be Giants
Life's just a mood ring we're not allowed to see.
Laugh hard, it's a long way to the bank.
Where your eyes don't go / A filthy scarecrow waves its broomstick arms / And does a parody of each unconscious thing you do / When you turn around to look it's gone beyond you / On its face it's wearing your confused expression / Where your eyes don't go
I've built a little Empire / Off some crazy garbage / Called the blood of the exploited working class / But they've overcome their shyness / Now they're calling me 'Your Highness'/ And the world screams 'Kiss me, son of God'
I don't want the world, I just want your half
A woman came up to me and said / I'd like to poison your mind / With wrong ideas that appeal to you / Though I am not unkind
There's only one thing that I know how to do well / and I've often been told that you only can do what you know how to do well / and that's be you / be what you're like / be like yourself.
We can't be silent / 'Cause they might be giants / And what are we gonna do unless they are?
Everybody wants prosthetic foreheads / on their real heads.
We were once so close to heaven / Peter came out and gave us medals / Declaring us the nicest of the damned
You said you were the king of liars / And I believed you and called you 'sire' / But I realize now that I have been deceived.
Can't shake the devil's hand / And say you're only kidding.
Triangle Man, Triangle Man / Triangle Man hates Particle Man
Is he a dot, or he is a speck / when he's underwater, does he get wet / or does the water get him instead?
He's got a watch with a minute hand / millennium hand, and an eon hand
Standing in my yard / Where they tore down the garage / To make room for the torn-down garage
/ applied by Magic Marker to drywall / I should be allowed to shoot my mouth off / I should have a call-in show.
They revamped the airport completely / Now it looks just like a night club / Everyone's excited and confused
Time is flying like an arrow / And the clock hands move so fast they make the wind blow / And it makes the pages of the calendar go / Flying out the window, one by one
