Junkies down in Brooklyn are going crazy

They're laughing just like hungry dogs in the street

Policemen are hiding behind the skirts of little girls

Their eyes have turned the color of frozen meat



No, no no no, no no no no no no no no,

Joan Crawford has risen from the grave

Joan Crawford has risen from the grave



Catholic schoolgirls have thrown away their mascara

They chain themselves to the axles of big Mack trucks

The sky is filled with hurt and shivering angels

The fat lady lives! Children, start your trucks!



No, no no no, no no no no no no no no,

Joan Crawford has risen from the grave

Joan Crawford has risen from the grave



(Christina... Mother's home!

No, no...

Christina...

No, no - no, no...

Come to Mother...

No, no - no, no, no no no no no no

Christina...)



Joan Crawford has risen from the grave

Joan Crawford has risen from the grave

Joan Crawford has risen from the grave

Joan Crawford has risen from the grave

Joan Crawford has risen from the grave

Joan Crawford has risen from the grave

Joan Crawford has risen from the grave

Joan Crawford has risen