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Bobs Plugged Tattoo Me Now I'm not the prisoner of my skin It's flexible and paper thin I'm breaking out to let you in Where I get pierced with a little pin Little pricks I could hardly feel -- tiny little needles made of steel I make a statement, hear my cry -- something I'll have past the day that I die I was inspired by the illustrated man -- I got my first butterfly on my can I'm running out of room I can't find a place -- I'll have to put the Last Supper on my face Tattoo, tattoo me now tattoo ow I can't be buried in a Jewish cemetery -- unless before I die I become very hairy I can't get a job that means anything -- But I can always get a nipple ring A pattern of scars filled with ink -- like vacation postcards don't you think? Running from my ankle all the way to my breast -- is a map of my vacation in the wild wild west Tattoo, tattoo me now tattoo ow My body is a canvas -- a picture I control A gallery of images -- I worship every hole The back's an empty album -- begging for some art Dragons, lizards, ancient gods -- only question -- where to start |
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