It's Saturday night and the axons and the neurons tell me to step into the kitchen.
And slowly open the second drawer on the right to search through it and grab the biggest knife i can find.

It's not the heat it's the humidity.
And I'm not sure what's gotten into me.

Then, Sunday morning the carbon monoxide tells me that we should go for a ride.
But, in hindsight this whole thing seems so bizzare.
God, you make a lot of noise in the trunk of my car.

It's been nice knowing you now.
Make your last wishes now.
It's been nice knowing you now.
Sleep with the fishes now.