Lyrics
Handbasket Handbasket The poet wants to swing from a chandelier He only gets sober on a mug of beer He tried to be strange, but it felt kind of weird He tried to be cool, but he couldn't grow a beard Handbasket Handbasket He sits in the corner of the cocktail hour Watches as events unfold, sweet and sour He tries to make sense of human nature But all that he gets is a bill from waiter Handbasket Handbasket Handbasket Handbasket The songwriter paints with pretty words He only acts ironic when it's not absurd He tries to find melodies you've never heard But it's hard to be happy on minor third Handbasket (We're going to Hell) Handbasket (It's gonna be swell) Handbasket (I'll see you there as well) Handbasket (We're going to Hell)
