My Version of It - Lesson #200 Lyrics

Your baby's got a CIA
But you couldn't see her anyway
I'm already in quarantine
Not much has changed

Don't trust the FBI
Because they never have to sacrifice
I don't need it, you don't have to ask
We are all wearing masks, oh

You're going to die with your hair combed
With nowhere left to go
I had a dream on Halloween
I don't recall falling asleep, no

You're going to die with your hair combed
In fifty years, they'll find your bones
When combing through your ruined home
Send me back Dr. Jones

And show me
How to work my
I'll put on my head phones
And drown out the sound

Of people crying
The world is on fire
And I have nothing
To contribute at this time, no

You're going to die with your hair combed
With nowhere left to go
I had a dream of Halloween
I don't recall falling asleep

You're going to die with your hair combed
Gasping alone, your cover blown
Your telephone's your Svengali
When will you call on me

You're going to die with your hair combed
You're going to die with your hair combed
You're going to die with your hair combed