Orgy of Fresh Ink

Overnight, the landscape has More color and yet less How’d I fall asleep on the East Coast And wake up in the West? Everybody is tattooed Everybody is tattooed Uh-oh! The social fabric is unglued My God, his is bigger than mine His is awfully big His is much more bigger than mine He must be more masculine Every third brother And the mother of another Has a tattoo (It doesn’t mean anything any-) Every third brother And the mother of another Has a tattoo (It doesn’t mean anything anymore) What once was revolutionary Is flirting with conformity When Harley Davidson opened a chain restaurant — When the Who sold their version of rock and roll — When Clinton put on shades and played with his sax — The bucket had left Hell’s well Get those bats back in their belfry, brother There’s no more room for what’s real The fish are writhing on the blood-stained shore Wedding dresses waving from the barber’s pole And the bucket has left Hell’s well The bucket has left Hell’s well Every third brother And the mother of another Has a tattoo (It doesn’t mean anything any-) Every third brother And the mother of another Has a tattoo (It doesn’t mean anything anymore)