This is how it starts

So in the past week I've made several trips to the gynecologist
He was surprised to see me standing there
With my golden ticket hanging out of my left pocket
As I entered the building I saw large acrylic paintings span the ceiling
And the stale smell of silicone clung to the wall
I breathed it in, I breathed it out
I thought nothing of it then and I think nothing of it now
I think nothing of it now

Salutations are in order
To welcome forth our sweet disorder

So why don't you sit in the corner of your room
Sit in the corner of your room
And download the next greatest track to your MP3 device
So sincerely recommended to you by the New Musical Express
You can pick it up
Plug it in
And have it ready for free-roaming material before you know it
Then you can stroll on round to your friend's house and play it loud and proud
As you sit around in a circle and skip one minute and thirty seconds into the chorus
So we can all sing along and gaze and marvel at the four chord future
Cause that's what we want
That's what we need
Something we can touch
Something we can feel
Something that's relatable not debatable
Relatable not debatable
Relatable not debatable
Relatable not debatable

Salutations are in order
To welcome forth our sweet disorder

I don't want to be heard if you're the only one listening
Bathe me in blood and call it a christening
I don't want to be heard if you're the only one listening
Bathe me in blood and call it a christening
Bathe me, bathe me in blood
Bathe me, bathe me, bathe me in blood

And that's how it ends