White moon white moon. Breaks open the tomb. Of a deserted cartoon that I wrote. Creature come creature creature. My own double feature. As I'm warming the bleachers at home. Well my nose keeps on bleeding. 'Cause it's rita I'm needing. I better call out a meeting of the boys. Of the boys. My friends are all dying. And death can't be lying. It's the truth and it don't make a noise. Oh Rita oh Rita. If you lived in mesita. I would move you with the beat of a drum. And this picture is proof. That although you're aloof. You had the shiniest tooth 'neath the sun. Easy come easy go. Be a star of the show. I'm giving up all I know to get more. To get more. Photograph the picture. Young grunt pin-up scripture. For locker-tagged memories of war. A mirage this garage. And a photo montage. And a finger massage from the host. Good lord good lord. The one I adore. And I cannot afford is a ghost. Is a ghost. Proto-social is the word. And the word is the bird. That flew through the herd in the snow. In the snow. Lemonade me then grade me. Then deliver my baby. And if my friends all persuade me I'll go. Blink blink at me Rita. Don't you know I'm a bleeder?. And I promised I wouldn't lead her on. But she met me then led me. And I ate what was fed me. 'Til I purged every word in this song