Do you think they could see us in this base circumstance You with blood on your knees and me with my hand down your pants? If a lad wears a dress then won`t George want his sex? [As his explorers buy butt] sex operation, decision time`s come At the end of our useful lives
We`re out of the hive We must be groovin` We`re out of the hive in the land of the black and white minstrels
What do you call him, boyfriend or [flat bone]? He`s a sensitive artist--come on, let`s leave him alone
You`ve got to watch the blind I said you`ve got to watch the blind On the day of the [morning] festival The bleakest afternoon of the season All drones everywhere arise from mildewed states of unconsciousness and go to celebrate their condition in the abandoned village greens where the fairground is down with its revolving towers of burning colored lights and its roaring tin can music, its people and fumes Drunks stagger everywhere and paw each other in the half-light at the edge of the confusion
Out of the hive We must be groovin` We`re out of the hive We`re out of the hive We`re out of the hive now We might as well come and die We`re out of the hive in the land of the black and white minstrels Hallelujah!
Do you think they can see us? Oh, I do hope they can They can do me a favor and bury you where you stand!
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