Junkies down in Brooklyn are going crazy

They're laughing just like hungry dogs in the street

Policemen are hiding behind the skirts of little girls

Their eyes have turned the color of frozen meat

Catholic school girls have thrown away their mascara

They chain themselves to the axles of big Mac trucks

The sky is filled with herds of shivering angels

The fat lady laughs, "Gentlemen, start your trucks"

Oh, no, no, no, no, no, no, no-no, no, no, no

(Mother's home)

(Come to mother)

Joan Crawford has risen