Ah!
You only got one finger left
And it's pointing at the door
And you're taking for granted
What the Lord's laid on the floor

So I'm picking up the pieces
And I'm putting them up for sale
Throw your meal ticket out the window
Put your skeletons in jail

'Cause Lord only knows it's getting late
Your senses are gone so don't you hesitate
To give yourself a call let your bottom dollars fall
Throwing your two bit cares down the drain

Invite me to the seven seas like some seasick man
You will do whatever you please and I'll do whatever I can
Titanic, fare thee well, my eyes are turning pink
Don't call us when the new age gets old enough to drink

'Cause Lord only knows it's getting late
Your senses are gone so don't you hesitate
To move on up the hill well there's nothing dead left to kill
Throwing your two bit cares down the drain

Odelay, odelay, odelay, odealy odelay, odelay
Just passing through
Odelay, odelay, odelay, odealy

Going back to Houston
Do the hot dog dance
Going back to Houston
To get me some pants

Copyright: Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.
Writer(s): Beck Hansen