Tiny Cities

We're going down the road
 Towards tiny cities made of ashes
 Gonna hit you on the face
 Gonna punch you in your glasses
 Oh no!
 Just got a message that said
 "Yeah, hell is freezin' over"
 I got a phone call from the Lord
 Saying, "Boy, go get a sweater right now."
 So we're drinking, drinking, drinking, drinking, drinking
 Coca, Coca-Cola
 I can feel it rolling right on down
 Right on down my throat
 As we're headed down the road
 Towards tiny cities made of ashes
 Gonna get dressed up in plastic
 Gonna shake hands with the masses
 Oh no!
 Does anybody know a way that a body could get away?
 Does anybody know a way?
 We're going down the road
 Towards tiny cities made of ashes
 Gonna hit you on the face
 Gonna punch you in your glasses
 I'm wearing myself a t-shirt
 Says, "The world is my ashtray"
 Our hearts pump dust
 And our hair's all gray
 Just got a message
 Saying that hell has frozen over
 Got a phone call from the Lord
 Saying, "Boy, go get a sweater right now!"
 Does anybody know a way that a body could get away?
 Does anybody know a way?
 We're drinking, drinking, drinking, drinking
 Coca, Coca-Cola
 I can feel it rolling right on down
 Right on down my throat
 And as we're headed down the road
 Towards tiny cities made of ashes
 Gonna lay down in the baths
 Where they coat you in molasses
 Oh no!
 Does anybody know a way that a body could get away?
 Does anybody know a way?