Pareidolia
- Frankie and the Mountweasels

I saw Pope Gregory II in a plate of pork and beans
And a smiling Virgin Mary in the crotch of my blue jeans
There’s a bloodstain on the carpet, looks like Elvis in a hat
And I swear that my new toilet brush is Yasser Arafat
But I don’t see her anymore
I got the Pareidolia Cure
I don’t see her anymore

There’s a magpie at the back door quoting Genesis 14
And my tumble dryer plays the surfing hits of Jan & Dean
The buzzing in my head is like the Buddha chanting Zen
And when I play Ed Sheeran backwards I hear “kill and kill again”
But I don’t hear her anymore
My treatment’s working out for sure
I don’t hear her anymore

I no longer see her face in every crowd
Nor her milk-white breasts above me in the soft cumulus clouds
My visions now lack that kind of specificity
Yeah sure, I’m still in the dumps
But now at least I can go and take a shit without her there,
I just see little, shiny, brown, floating, Donald Trumps

Deities - whoever’s holier
Thank you for my pareidolia
It's a fact obsession for someone
Can come and take control of ya
Man I love my pareidolia
More than pasta Aglio e Olia
It is so much fun
It is like watching Pele score a goalia
Dance on the streets or on a polia
Sing and drink some alcoholia
Pareidolia, pareidolia
Visions to comfort your soulia