Tekster: They Might Be Giants. The Else. With the Dark.

Like a ghost writer's ending
She will send you down

She's in love with her broken heart
She's in love with the dark
She's in love with her broken heart
She's in love with the dark

I'm getting tired of all my nautical dreams
I'm getting tired of all my nautical themes
Busting my pirate hump, rocking my peg leg stump
My mind naturally turns to taxidermy, to taxidermy, yeah

Crushes, crashes, smashes to pieces
Crushes, crashes, smashes to pieces
Crushes, crashes, smashes to pieces
We're taking over, we're taking over

I looked around and you looked around
And soon we were there
Leading the charge of the wrong
Of the wrong, of the wrong, of the wrong

Rusted, crusted, combusted and dusted
Rusted, crusted, combusted and dusted
Rusted, crusted, combusted and dusted
We're taking over, we're taking over

Back in command of the out of control
All over town
Putting them all in the ground
In the ground, in the ground, in the ground

No more sunlight, please