Get on to the bus that's gonna take you back to Beelzebub...
Get on to the bus that's gonna make you stop going rub-a-dub...
Your words burn the air like the names of candy bars.
Your mouth is cold and red, all in rings around your laugh, laughing laughs...
And it's a grind-grind, it's a grind, it's a grind-grind...
Get on to the bus that's gonna take you back to Beelzebub...
Get on to the bus that's gonna make you stop going rub-a-dub...
I'll scratch you raw, l'etat c'est moi,
I drink the drink, and I'm wall-to-wall.
I absorb trust like a love rhombus,
I feel I must elucidate, I ate the chump with guile.
Quadrilateral I was, now I warp like a smile.
Yellow no. 5, yellow no. 5, yellow no. 5...
Voulez-vous the bus?
Voulez-vous the bus that's gonna take you back to Beelzebub...
Voulez-vous the bus that's gonna make you stop going rub-a-dub...
And it's a grind-grind, it's a grind, it's a grind-grind...
Yellow no. 5, yellow no. 5, yellow no. 5...
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