Polygraph

The body's been dead not seven days, you've already fucked it a hundred ways.
Stiffer than some but more willing than most,
"If this is your idea of some kind of joke..."
You can teach your razorblade a thing or two about suicide.
Now cross your heart and wash these sheets,
You're going to wake the whole fucking street.
Let's get this thing off the nearest bridge.
And I know you didn't mean to,
Sweetheart you never mean to,
I know you never meant to,
But you did.