Letra de Travolta - Mr. Bungle

All behold the spectacle
A fleshy limbless rectangle
Sitting on a pedestal
So nasal handicapable

Sniff and remember silver ball
Contortions that he can't recall
The torso on a trampoline
The happiness melts into dream

To talk is an enunciated sneeze
To taste is some foul air to breathe

One thought it lasts a day and at that rate he'll most likely live forever!
He's a bird in flight, a hermaphrodite
And he fucks himself as he fucks the world

His twitching brain can dance within
Gyrating more like gelatin
A secret means of ecstasy
Acute and very olfactory

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To see is colors crawling in the nose
To hear is stinking highs and lows

He's got an itch but nothing with which to scratch the itch - so wish it away

With his mouth sewn shut, he still shakes his butt
Cuz he's Hitler & Swayze & Trump & Travolta

Smell, Sweat, Movement.
Everyone's dancing.
Disco.
Dimple.
Fading. Darker.
A subtle fragrance.
Faint.
Everyone's dancing without him.
Where did it go?
Dark.
Odorless.
Nothing.