Well I've been moved in a week this Thursday
But I haven't slept so great
My old blinds don't fit nine windows
And I'm baking shy of eight
But I'll sweat the bed, my friend,
Because the rent is cheap as hell
At the old Taco Bell
My toes stay froze in winter
But she's decked in stainless steel
I remember rinsing off the week
On Friday with a meal
Before dining out was hiding my
Addiction to new belts
At the old Taco Bell
You won't find me undercover
Of whatever magazine
I got no shower and my roof's imbued
With bygone shades of green
When I lock my front door
It's four sixteen-penny nails
In the old Taco Bell
They gather the symphony down the bypass once a year
In the churchyard where white women
Sip white wine and pine to cheer
They played this Bela Bartok
That sent the whole lot running pale
At the old Taco Bell
They battened down my glass door,
Ripped the counter for a shield
In fear of what fine silver made
The sword the Lord would wield
For bowing to the boredom,
Driving up the devil's sales
At the old Taco Bell
But Jesus, sipping some ice water, said:
"Hey, could you guys spare some room
To melt my sword of silver
Down to one big tablespoon?"
He fattened us on laughter,
After that he snagged a gale
From the old Taco Bell
