Love Is America Spelled Backwards
Thought Industry Lyrics

My girlfriend and I are quite poor. So we crash funeral gatherings for the free food.
As we are struggling with financial difficulties, my partner and I attend funerals to indulge in the complimentary meals being offered.

Hell, everybody's so busy crying and consoling; they don't even notice us in the coatroom pillaging their clothes and purses.
People are too preoccupied with mourning and comforting one another, leaving us unnoticed as we sneak around and steal personal belongings from their coats and purses.

It's too bad that you can't run very far on an orbiting space colony.
It is unfortunate that any attempt to escape a problematic situation is futile, just like running away on a space colony that is continually moving in the same direction.

Garden Greenroom, Battle Creek Funeral Simulation
The name of the funeral parlor where the artist crashes funerals.

Type writehead collide.
A collision of two headstrong individuals who aspire to write, or perhaps the act of typing while being inebriated.

Tap tap paper tie.
The sound of typing is akin to tapping against a paperclip, an everyday task that is dull and mundane.

Prolific benign. Fill me throat cheap rye.
The alcohol that is consumed at the funeral is not of high quality, but it serves the purpose of getting intoxicated. The individual also talks about their creative capabilities.

I breathe a funeral foyer. Me with glue girl Margaret. Now she's kissing me.
The artist and his partner sneak into a funeral home, where he encounters Maggie, and they share a kiss.

We drink gin till we can't see. Pâté brunch for symposium. Pink balloons drape the coffins. It reads no systole.
The couple drinks excessively until they can no longer see or think clearly. The funeral reception is accompanied by a brunch that is served with pâté, and the scene is decorated with pink balloons. The coffin at the center reads 'no systole,' meaning there is no heartbeat distribution.

I spill scotch on the body. Shit smile prom night. Rational hick life. Self-hypnosis guide. Exuberance lactize.
The artist spills scotch on a dead body, and he reminisces about his past and how he attended prom. He then talks about hypnosis as a method of transitioning from reality to a dreamlike state.

I hear a song on the radio. So I spit on the dial. Now she's kissing me. We snort scotch till we're plastic. There's a gimp with a yo-yo who say's Pepsi owns Tokyo. He says pardon me.
The radio plays a song that enrages the singer to the point where he spits on the radio dial. The couple then snorts scotch until they become numb. A strange man with a yo-yo interrupts them and claims that Pepsi owns Tokyo, and apologizes for his statement.

Let's bury the body. Hey, hey let's drive to the grave. Now our cars are a gay parade. He says, "Hey, hey. Let's drive to the grave. We'll bury meat on a rainy day." Human Landfill.
The couple decides to bury the body, and they drive to the graveyard in a celebratory manner. The strange man with the yo-yo suggests burying the body on a rainy day to create a human landfill.

I trip to walk. Margaret hands me a Librium, I say "thanks for the confidence." Now she's kissing me, my flask of Chaska's empty.
The singer stumbles as he walks, and Maggie hands him a Librium to help him gain his composure. He thanks her for her support, and they kiss each other while his flask of Chaska's liquor is empty.

I stumble up to the podium, and push down the Reverend. They'll yell, "Eulogy". So I pass out on the body.
The singer walks up to the podium and pushes the Reverend. The audience will cry out for a eulogy, but instead, the singer passes out on the body.

Hey, hey fill in the grave. Shovel mud on a deity. I say, "Hey, hey. Fill in the grave, then steal the collection tray. Pack some mud on the pious meat. Pack some mud on Uncle Sam. God bless the grime."
The strange man with the yo-yo initiates burying the body and covering it with mud. The singer urges him to take the collection tray and put mud on the meat that is considered holy. He further adds that mud should also be packed on Uncle Sam, and he blesses the grime.