Hey Mr. Chips, how's the wife?   And are the kids still poison? Do you still eat them?   Been under the gun, running the guns   Say how'd this world get so fucking fun all of a sudden?      Here's a quarter for the phone   Why don't you call someone and find out?   How it is we can all belong to something that   No one wants any part of?      One day you'll wake up   And they'll be advertising on police cars   And your death will sell you out   As someone smart, somewhat smart      Baby, don't get out out of bed   Just lay back down your pretty head   And they're advertising on police cars      Hey Mr. Chips, had me a notion   Like a burning sky dropped to the ocean   A bitter pill, is it better still to lay undone your guts for show?   To reconstruct some of your bones? To turn it up?   When it calls to you will you wake up?      They're advertising on police cars   Your death will sell you out as someone smart   Somewhat smart      Baby, don't get out of bed   Just lay back down your pretty head   They're advertising on police cars