Egg

(álbum: Mr. Bungle - 1991)

Rotting from the inside
Over-incubated
By the heat of fear and love
The self's coagulated

Egg, egg, egg, egg...

Boiling hard in euphemism
Slowly becoming part of the water
Like a frog who never knows
The jacuzzi's getting hotter

Blah blah, blah blah...

How'd you know I was looking at you
If you weren't looking at me?

A stagnant pale perfume
Conceived to block the pores
The clotting glands encroach
The endless comfort of a mom
Deep inside my tanning salon
Wishing life was poached

I can't seem to differentiate
Between the yellow love you give and the white sex I take
I just want to fertilize you

Blah blah, blah blah...

The cracks finally appear
Release cholesterol tears
The flooded cyst drains itself of pus
The lonely stomach chills unless it's drunk
So as she drives she'll close her eyes
Feel it warming up inside

Oh an egg comes out of a chicken
Oh a chicken comes out of an egg
Oh an egg comes out of a chicken
Oh a chicken comes out of an egg

Oh an egg comes out of a chicken
Oh a chicken comes out of an egg
Oh an egg comes out of a chicken
Oh a chicken comes out of an egg

There's no place like home...