Artist: GDP
Album:  Useless Eaters
Song:   Little Boxes
Typed by: OHHLA Webmaster DJ Flash

[GDP]
There was a lawyer named Jones, born to find loopholes
for brands like Nabisco to legalize fructose
Before he'd go to sleep at night he'd count his money
Amazing {?} in his 20's (in the eighties)
Had a condo in Manhattan, a beachfront in Nantucket
A high rise in Miami and a wife with a bun in the oven
Plush society served by Guinan
She got a stomach virus and they buried 'em five deep
And Terine is nailed to the TV
Her lifestyle contradicts her religious beliefs
She would talk about the box as menopause
Healthy as an ox, many mental scars
One day on her way home from mass
Her high heels slipped off the gas
Flipped her Grand Am, head smashed half through the windshield
They buried her with four other strangers in Peteskill

[Chorus]
A lawyer, and a copper and a doctor in the same casket
A junkie, and a baby and a hussie in the same casket
A rapper, and an athlete and a pastor in the same casket
A crossdresser, an executive professor in the same casket

[GDP]
Sleepy Sky got tattoos of tiny dots
from the wrong side of trackmark he's on
His girl noticed when some money went missin
Most his friends did this shit with him
Caught Hep C in Virginia, swappin syringes
Spikes the linen when he heard a knock at the window
All of a sudden then the doorknob busted
Feds storm in, fuckin like they always dusted
They turned Scott mop to a pond
Left him leakin in a bathtub to rot
A chip for every arm, half the future
A bag on a boxcar headed for Chattanooga
Half a gram Pam scored well on exams
Brown hair, blue eyes, full ride to Yale
By spring semester she couldn't take the pressure
She flunked her electives so she fucked her professor
And after he came in her she made him dinner
Lemon chicken and chocolate mousse cake for dizzert
Pam dropped out when her seed popped out
And now her baby daddy's leavin for Moscow
Pam panicked, blew a bag of 'gnac then
Drove to her man's house frantic and stabbed him
Put the little bastard in her Jansport backpack
Climbed up to Cupid and just splashed into traffic

[Chorus]
A junkie, and a baby and a hussie in the same casket
A crossdresser, an executive professor in the same casket
A Jehovah, a baby and a soldier in the same casket
A baker, and a painter and a faker in the same casket

[GDP]
We're all the same turning grey in the grave
And they'll bury us together you should save a little space
A Mormon, and a Muslim and a warden in the same casket
A chiropractor, a gyno and an actor in the same casket
An ex, and a baby and a vet in the same casket
With the masses... food for maggots
Food for thought, lunch for maggots {*2X*}
Food for thought... you bastards