We're going down the road Towards tiny cities made of ashes Gonna hit you on the face Gonna punch you in your glasses Oh no! Just got a message that said "Yeah, hell is freezin' over" I got a phone call from the Lord Saying, "Boy, go get a sweater right now." So we're drinking, drinking, drinking, drinking, drinking Coca, Coca-Cola I can feel it rolling right on down Right on down my throat As we're headed down the road Towards tiny cities made of ashes Gonna get dressed up in plastic Gonna shake hands with the masses Oh no! Does anybody know a way that a body could get away? Does anybody know a way? We're going down the road Towards tiny cities made of ashes Gonna hit you on the face Gonna punch you in your glasses I'm wearing myself a t-shirt Says, "The world is my ashtray" Our hearts pump dust And our hair's all gray Just got a message Saying that hell has frozen over Got a phone call from the Lord Saying, "Boy, go get a sweater right now!" Does anybody know a way that a body could get away? Does anybody know a way? We're drinking, drinking, drinking, drinking Coca, Coca-Cola I can feel it rolling right on down Right on down my throat And as we're headed down the road Towards tiny cities made of ashes Gonna lay down in the baths Where they coat you in molasses Oh no! Does anybody know a way that a body could get away? Does anybody know a way?