"Pink Tarantulas" lyrics
We are the cock-eyed children left to babble in tarantula glue
We are the shock-eyed children left to suckle straw in the soap opera zoo
We are the engines pumping out children strangled by static from the noisy sun
So won't you tell us what's brewing in your trenches?
Let us see what you've got hidden under the web
Come on, come on, what's listening in those stretch marks?
Tell us, tell us, taxman, what you meant when you said...
Sleep, eat, own, fuck
Abandoned like a bombed out conversation
Phone, TV, sweets, suck
I pledge allegiance to the small talk nation
Wrapped, packed, soiled, stacked
Gaping like a cracked open piñata
Counted, measured, copied, faxed
Pink tarantula teeth in our pina coladas
What's cooking in your stain? (come on taxman)
The sleepy clang of cash register fangs
What's cooking our sun? (come on taxman)
The addictive hum of bubble gum slums
Come on taxman!
This withered milk tree that you call love collapses like an empty glove...
Feed it! (yeah) Suck it! (yeah) Own it! (yeah) Fuck it! (yeah)
And we know that sewing on another asshole wont make us shit more
But who can resist a two-for-one at the pink tarantula store?
Pink tarantula! (Yeah!)
Pink tarantula! (Oh yeah!)
Pink tarantula!
1, 2, 3, go!
When you wake up in the morning the rising sun shines through its frosted veil
We'll always lay together dreaming of other people under the poison hail
You look so disgusting, all pink and puckered, covered with tarantula hair
You look so disgusting I can feel the sight rotting off of my prowling stare
And we know that TV fed us our first footsteps
But the Ketamine is gonna teach us, teach us, teach us
Gonna teach us, teach us, teach us just how to crawl
We are the cross-eyed children misled to yellow in tarantula webs
Yeah we are the gawk-eyed children chained to rot in the designer fuck beds
Sleep, eat, own, fuck
Abandoned like a bombed out conversation
Phone, TV, sweets, suck
I pledge allegiance to the small talk nation
Wrapped, packed, soiled, stacked
Gaping like a cracked open piñata
Counted, measured, copied, faxed
Pink tarantula teeth in our pina coladas
Pink tarantula! (Yeah!)
Pink tarantula! (Oh yeah!)
Pink tarantula!
1, 2, 3, go!
We are the shock-eyed children left to suckle straw in the soap opera zoo
We are the engines pumping out children strangled by static from the noisy sun
So won't you tell us what's brewing in your trenches?
Let us see what you've got hidden under the web
Come on, come on, what's listening in those stretch marks?
Tell us, tell us, taxman, what you meant when you said...
Sleep, eat, own, fuck
Abandoned like a bombed out conversation
Phone, TV, sweets, suck
I pledge allegiance to the small talk nation
Wrapped, packed, soiled, stacked
Gaping like a cracked open piñata
Counted, measured, copied, faxed
Pink tarantula teeth in our pina coladas
What's cooking in your stain? (come on taxman)
The sleepy clang of cash register fangs
What's cooking our sun? (come on taxman)
The addictive hum of bubble gum slums
Come on taxman!
This withered milk tree that you call love collapses like an empty glove...
Feed it! (yeah) Suck it! (yeah) Own it! (yeah) Fuck it! (yeah)
And we know that sewing on another asshole wont make us shit more
But who can resist a two-for-one at the pink tarantula store?
Pink tarantula! (Yeah!)
Pink tarantula! (Oh yeah!)
Pink tarantula!
1, 2, 3, go!
When you wake up in the morning the rising sun shines through its frosted veil
We'll always lay together dreaming of other people under the poison hail
You look so disgusting, all pink and puckered, covered with tarantula hair
You look so disgusting I can feel the sight rotting off of my prowling stare
And we know that TV fed us our first footsteps
But the Ketamine is gonna teach us, teach us, teach us
Gonna teach us, teach us, teach us just how to crawl
We are the cross-eyed children misled to yellow in tarantula webs
Yeah we are the gawk-eyed children chained to rot in the designer fuck beds
Sleep, eat, own, fuck
Abandoned like a bombed out conversation
Phone, TV, sweets, suck
I pledge allegiance to the small talk nation
Wrapped, packed, soiled, stacked
Gaping like a cracked open piñata
Counted, measured, copied, faxed
Pink tarantula teeth in our pina coladas
Pink tarantula! (Yeah!)
Pink tarantula! (Oh yeah!)
Pink tarantula!
1, 2, 3, go!
Writer(s): Jordan Blilie, Cody Votolato, John Whitney, Mark Sunil Gajadhar, Morgan Henderson
