So in the past week I've made several trips to the gynecologist He was surprised to see me standing there With my golden ticket hanging out of my left pocket And as I entered the building I saw large acrylic paintings span the ceiling And the stale smell of silicone clung to the wall I breathed it in, I breathed it out I thought nothing of it then And I think nothing of it now I think nothing of it now Salutations are in order To welcome forth our sweet disorder So why don't you sit in the corner of your room Sit in the corner of your room And download the next greatest track to your mp3 device So sincerely recommended to you by the New Musical Express You can pick it up, plug it in And have it ready for free-roaming material before you know it Then you can stroll on round to your friend's house And play it loud and proud As you sit around in a circle And skip one minute and thirty seconds into the chorus So we can all sing along and gaze and marvel at the four chord future Cause that's what we want That's what we need Something we can touch Something we can feel Something that's relatable not debatable Relatable not debatable Relatable not debatable Relatable not debatable Salutations are in order To welcome forth our sweet disorder I don't want to be heard if you're the only one listening Bathe me in blood and call it a christening I don't want to be heard if you're the only one listening Bathe me in blood and call it a christening Bathe me, bathe me, bathe me in blood Bathe me, bathe me, bathe me in blood