Rollaroll

You’re sticking to me like a dirty joke
A creeping back stabber, or a hula hoop
You hit like a butcher with meat on fire
You love it or hate it but you bury time
Rollaroller, rollaroll
Rollaroller, rollaroll
Rollaroller, ah rollaroller
Rollaroller, rollaroll
And you don’t feel nothing when it’s stuck to the chair
I ain’t dead as a door nail when you’re not there
Well, push on over a rollaroller
Feeling the pressure of a rollaroll
Ah treadin' on fire, are you waving goodbye?
And there’s garbage on garbage, right up to the sky
Ah, rollaroller
Rollaroller, ah rollaroll
Rollaroller, rollaroll
Yeah rollaroller, rollaroll
Rollaroller, rollaroll
Rollaroller, rollaroll
Rollaroller, rollaroll
Rollaroller, rollaroll
Rollaroller, rollaroll
Rollaroller, rollaroll
Rollaroller, rollaroll