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]