Modest Mouse Lyrics
"Teeth Like God's Shoeshine"

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From the top of the ocean
Yeah!
From the bottom of the sky
God damn!
Well I get claustrophobic
I can, you know that I can
Well,

From the top of the ocean
Yeah!
From the bottom of the sky
God damn!
Well I get claustrophobic
I can, you know that i can,

And he said...
"I am not allowed much danger,
But keep in mind you're an old friend, stranger
You'll burn me in effigy and I'll burn you in effigy
Well, A rattlesnake up in montana
He bit the leg of the Sheriff
Ha! That boy fell on his harelip! Ow...Ow!

Well I, I might be wrong
But you, you tag along
But we are always wrong
And I get dizzier by the mile
Said hell! The money's spent
went to the county line
and paid the rent said "Uh-oh."

Oh! If you could compact your conscience
Oh! And you might
Oh! If you could bottle and sell what you might've done
Oh! And You might...
Oh! If you could compact your conscience
and sell it save it for another time
You might have to use it...

And the television's off
Go to the grocery store and buy some new friends
And find out the beginning the end and the best of it
well do you need a lot of what you got to survive?

Well here's the man with teeth like god's shoeshine
He sparkles, shimmers, shines
Let's all have another Orange Julius,
Thick syrup standing in lines
The malls are the soon to be ghost-towns
Well so long, farewell, good-bye

Well, Take them all for the long ride
And go around town, no one will be up, uptight anymore
You can be ashamed to be so proud of what you've done
But not no one, not now, not ever anyone,
take 'em all for the sense of happiness
that comes from hurting deep down inside
You can try to add it up and give a shit, give a shit
Go to the family doctor with all of it all of it
All... of
and it's all of...
Or you can add it up and give a shit give a shit
And it takes the best of it, best of it
All of...
All of...

Well here's the man with teeth like god's shoeshine
He sparkles, shimmers, shines
Let's all have another Orange Julius,
Thick syrup standing in lines
The malls are the soon to be ghost-towns
Well so long, farewell, good-bye

and the telephone goes off
pick to receiver up, try to meet ends
and find out the beginning, the end and the best of it
This song is from the album "The Lonesome Crowded West".