Death is Coming to Get You (Fresh Meat version)
By: Beck Hansen
Written by: Beck Hansen

This Version:
Death is coming to get you
It's mighty plain to see
With a handful of cocaine
And a long white limousine
He's got rings on his fingers
Knives on his sleeve
He's sucking all the air up
Till there's nothing left to breathe
Well, he's looking in the phone book
For you number and your name
And he's coming to your house
While you're watching a football game
He's pulling up the driveway
With the windows rolled up tight
And the eyes going blind
And your hair is turning white
Well he's crawling up the stairs
With a can of mace
And he's breaking all the windows
With your neighbor's face
He sets your clothes on fire
And brings you to your knees
He's filling up the rooms
With jesters and disease
He smashes the TV
Decapitates your mom
Raids the refrigerator
Throws vermin on the lawn
Playin' frisbee with your records
Pours blood on the walls
Uses your telephone
To make long distance calls
He's laughing at your diary
He's puking on your suits
He's dancing on your forehead
In your hiking boots
He's climbing up the chimney
He's falling through the roof
He ties you up with snakes
And takes your drugs and booze
He's sending back
All of the bills that you paid
He covers you with bacon
And fills your mouth with Raid
He's got everything you own
Out on the patio
And he's giving it away
To people you don't know
But you don't even care
Your mind has been destroyed
And this is the kind of stupid song
You write when you're unemployed