What would you sell ?. Loose glasses and suit. Heart and soul. Won't wear out. That's not enough !. I wonder what's inside. Fish fillet knife. Can cut. Right through my eye. I'm looking for some words. To call my own. Worn-out phrases. And a hand-me-down. They'll knock me. Under where I stand. Sad on his back. In a corned beef pan. Going under. You can feel them pulling me down. To the rust inside .... This is the way .... Franken-star is born. Bits and pieces. Others have worn. All held together by a management glue. Too much glue. Watch the stars turn blue. Turn blue. Turn blue. Turn blue. Turn blue. I'm going under. You can feel them pulling me down. To the halls of rust. Eeh .... I I I