Your mother is a journalist Your father is a creep They make it in your bedroom When they think you're fast asleep The scenes that they're enacting now Beside your little bed Are never in you consciousness But always in your head Baby, it might sound dodgy now But it sounds great when you're dead It sounds great when you're Your sister is a butterfly Your brother is a drunk You gaze at him reclining in Formaldehyde: a trunk He lives and breathes on systems That nobody can supply And you're immune to everything Except the butterfly Yeah Baby, it might sound dodgy now But it sounds great when you're dead It sounds great when you're dead Baby, you're incredible I think that you're the most I've searched around for everything Like you from coast to coast Your name, engraved in diamond Is written in my heart We're at our most together When we're at our most apart Baby, it might sound dodgy now But it sounds great when you're dead Baby, it might sound dodgy now But baby, let me assure you It sounds great when you're dead <Alternates> The way their bodies integrate 5a Beside your narrow bed 6a Your brother's always drunk 13a She draws a yellow circle 'round 14a His body on a trunk 15a He sinks down to the bottom and the fishes eat his eyes 16a And you're immune to everything except for butterflies 17a Your father is an alchemist, your mother is a creep 1b Beside your feather bed 6b Your sister is an embryo 12b You chalk around his outline while 14b He's sleeping in a trunk 15b Your name, engraved in diamonds 28b Baby, this might sound dodgy now 32b [17 Feb 85]