Bus to Beelzebub

Get on to the bus that's gonna take you back to Beelzebub... Get on to the bus that's gonna make you stop going rub-a-dub... Your words burn the air like the names of candy bars. Your mouth is cold and red, all in rings around your laugh, laughing laughs... And it's a grind-grind, it's a grind, it's a grind-grind... Get on to the bus that's gonna take you back to Beelzebub... Get on to the bus that's gonna make you stop going rub-a-dub... I'll scratch you raw, l'etat c'est moi, I drink the drink, and I'm wall-to-wall. I absorb trust like a love rhombus, I feel I must elucidate, I ate the chump with guile. Quadrilateral I was, now I warp like a smile. Yellow no. 5, yellow no. 5, yellow no. 5... Voulez-vous the bus? Voulez-vous the bus that's gonna take you back to Beelzebub... Voulez-vous the bus that's gonna make you stop going rub-a-dub... And it's a grind-grind, it's a grind, it's a grind-grind... Yellow no. 5, yellow no. 5, yellow no. 5...