Inside A Room Full Of Treasures A Black Pygmy Horse's Head Pops Up Like A Periscope - Of Montreal

There’s a hole in my sock

Where my shoe always bites it

And that’s got to stop or else

I’ll feel foolish at the sock-hop, yeah

The sacraments slouch

Near the garnish toupet with ceramic

My name’s Marcus and I’m a Martian mime

Well, of course I’m a mime

Where do you think I got

This scoop of Scottish cheese

And not a brick

From brown government buildings?

There’s a cloud in my clock

Where the seconds always chide it

And that’s got to stop

If I’m going to ride aboard the herbivore, yeah

Whose hourglass fingers

Look starved through the mask

My name’s Cassius and I’ve metamorphosized

Into a nosy guest talking dresses

Made of pheasant breasts

From magazine gown gazebo

And a red-sabred pompous horseman

There’s a glare from my smock

Where a cardinal ate his shadow

And that’s got to stop

If I’m going to garnish an acorn souffle

The clowns kneel down and pray

That the police will go away

After first giving them back their balms

So they can swat each other’s bearded faces

Once again, once again

There’s an «oh my» and «my goodness»

Genuflecting as in battle

And that’s got to stop

If I’m going to convert a bouncing Chan Marshall