Testo: Mountain Goats, The. Cut Off Their Thumbs.

You sprung out on the bed where we lean against the wall.

Down among the dregs out where the yellow spiders crawl.

The telephone is broken and the drapes have all been closed.



Hands up! Who doesn't know exactly where this story goes?



I'm gonna kill everybody in this room.

I'm gonna kill everybody in this room.



How has it come to this? Well I haven't got a clue.

You looking up at me and us two lowering down at you.

Wind shakes the palm trees with an escalating fury.

Face the judge or take your chances with the jury.



I'm gonna kill everybody in this room.

I'm gonna kill everybody in this room.



Let's have a little music on this hazy afternoon.

Let's hope the tension in here finds it's resolution soon.

Radio on the windowsill, old white moon above.

God watches over children and he cares for fools in love.



I'm gonna kill everybody in this room.

I'm gonna kill everybody in this room.