Text: Brendan Benson. Life In The D.

My life in the D is a tragicomedy, a poetic verse
It?s voodoo, some say black magic ettouffe, a dead man?s curse
It?s just like the Egyptian tombs, tunnels leading to empty rooms
Skeptics think it?s a doctored photo of a U.F.O

You?re wasting your breath on life after death 'cause I?m almost sure
If hell does exist, then the Devil?s a scientist, finding a cure
It?s life, microscopic size, unseen by the naked eye
The answer?s encoded with ink that?s invisible

When God made the earth and saw his net worth, he posed for a shot
And life in the D is what was handed to me and that?s what I?ve got
It?s all just a hologram, locked in a vault, it?s a cryptogram
A lie on the polygraph test, it?s detectable