The Daylight Savings and Loan - Parade Day Lyrics

I intend to rain
All over your parade
Oh, the lord she works
In mysterious ways

You are the telephone
With a bone to pick
You own the dial tone
You own the words that stick

I know you'll dance
All over my grave
Oh, the lord he'll take
Everything he ever gave

You are the telephone
With a bone to pick
You own the dial tone
You own the words that stick

Once you get over it
There's nothing left to feel
I moved a long, long time ago
And it doesn't matter