(Note: These are not the lyrics of the recorded version, but of an ealier version the band once performed live.) (M. Doughty) A murder of lawyers in overcoats. A murder of lawyers in overcoats. A murder of lawyers in overcoats, shoulders up, heads slung low, looking like a swarm of M's swarming the crosswalk. Looking up at a window on the forty-fourth floor. Blueeyed Jew Mystic from a rhythm section, his hands cupped around the dignified hijiki of human speech. Muslim baritones idle with their hands down. And the gat that fattens your jacket pocket Plugs slugs in vain Through the body of the immaterial witness. And that which is Ugly and feeds on The Law comes into the conference room singing federal jargon. Their necks are covered in chocolatey growths. Spat up an eyeful of steam in the lumber yard parking lot. Written in her own shit with a ground down fork. Written in her own shit with a ground down fork Written in her own shit with a ground down fork.
Written in her own shit with a ground down fork.
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