I heard what you said -- the leaders are dead
They’re robbing the skies -- I can hear their followers cry:
Ah -ooh -- starlings in the slipstream
Ah -ooh -- starlings in the slipstream
Ah -ooh -- starlings in the slipstream
Ah -ooh -- starlings in the slipstream
The language of influence is cluttered with hard hard c’s
And I put a spy-cam in a sorority
Ah-ooh -- darlings on the split-screen
Ah-ooh -- darlings on the split-screen
Ah-ooh -- darlings on the split-screen
Ah-ooh -- darlings on the split-screen
Ah-ooh
There’s no women in alaska
There’s no creoles in vermont
There’s no coast of nebraska
My mother, I forgot
Slavic princess with a rose in her teeth
Do you suppose she would bite you if she could?
Insane cobra split the wood
Trader of the lowland breed
Call a jittney, drive away
In the slipstream we will stay
Stay away, away, away, away, away, away, away, away, away