Hang On To Your IQ

Chinese masseuse, comes between us

talks in haikus, plastic venus

Got a headrush, in her pocket

two rubbers two lubes, and a silver rocket

Hang on, hang on

to your IQ, to your ID

hang on, hang on

to your IQ, to your ID

I'm lonely

Every morning, my eyes will open wide

I gotta get high, before I go outside

Roll another, for breakfast

burning clouds around, and in my solar plexus

Hang on, hang on

to your IQ, to your ID

hang on, hang on

to your IQ, to your ID

I'm lonely

Legs eleven, makes me stay up late

two fat ladies on my back, and now it's 88

I'm a fool, whose tool is small

it's so miniscule, it's no tool at all

hang on, hang on

to your IQ, to your ID

hang on, hang on

I'm lonely

Oh.