Lyrics Babe, Sleep Down (balls 911) - New York, New

What do you say about my wife
Motherfucker, I'll have you know that
My wife's stuff sags and tore like a colostomy bag full of magic sand
It spills and topples like a wine glass on the cruise ship
Keep her name out of your mouth

She treated my penis just like 9-11
The first time I thought it was an accident
But as soon as it happened twice
I knew it was intentional
There is a pile of rubble in my boxers
And I think William Basinski took a photo
Took a photo

Kill my uncle, I'm going to hell
Kill my uncle, I'm going to hell
Kill my uncle, I'm going to hell
Kill my uncle, I'm going to hell
Kill my uncle, I'm going to hell
Kill my uncle, I'm going to hell
Kill my uncle, I'm going to hell

I smacked her right
Because I want you back
I want you to make that horrify
And haunt like the ghost of a Victorian housewife
Make that scare a small lonely child
Make that thing drip and puddle like the wound that
Takes the life of a Victorian housewife in 1759

It was an accident
But as soon as it happened twice
I knew it was intentional
There is a pile of rubble in my boxers
And I think William Basinski took a photo
Took a photo (photo photo photo photo photo photo)
Penis

Will Graham it's me
Your old buddy Will Smith
It's been so long I was wondering
Does squelch and contort in grotesque ways
Like a rubber boot full of steak sauce
Does it snap and crack like a bear trap
Does the Mike's hard lemonade guy

The Queen treated my thing
Like a Chinese finger trap
In 2007, we had matched on OkCupid
We remained friends since and I wish her well
But she treated my thing like a very small shoe

She treated my penis just like 9-11
The first time I thought it was an accident
But as soon as it happened twice
I knew it was intentional
There is a pile of rubble in my boxers