Yeah you look good in that black light, Clothes gold like a mirror, Wanna see my reflection. Your hands up like a question, Wanna get close, Whisper something awful, I don't think the sugar cube told it to me. I know when they come to dig us up, I know what they'll find: Skeletons dancing, At the scene of the crime. Think I know what you're thinking: I run my mouth too much. "That's low-pH talk. Big visions, huh?" Yeah well I see plastic and glass in shards, Actinides, twisted steel rebar. They're gonna know us by the hell of it, In that groove like a burial, Do you get down to it?