Texty: T.S.O.L.. Code Blue.

I never got along with the girls at my school
Filling me up with all their morals and their rules
They'd pile all their problems on my head
I'd rather go out and fuck the dead

'Cause I can do what I want
And they won't complain
I wanna fuck, I wanna fuck the dead

Middle of the night so silently
I creep on over to the mortuary
Lift up the casket and fiddle with the dead
Their cold blue flesh makes me turn red

Do what I want
And they won't complain
I wanna fuck, I wanna fuck the dead

And I don't even care how she died
But I like it better
If she smells of formaldehyde

Never on the rag or say leave me alone
They don't scream and they don't moan
Don't even cry if I shoot in their hair
Lying on the table she smiles and she stares

'Cause I can do what I want
And they won't complain
I wanna fuck, I wanna fuck the dead