The beautiful people all send their excuses: real estate and sex lives, livestock and ex-wives...
But the poor are coming, the lame are running in their sleazy clothes and orthopedic shoes,
There's a harelip spokesman shouting out the news.

Come to the banquet at the world's end.

There's a string ensemble, and the king's court jester telling parables and big jokes, to mongoloids and old folks,
The blind are seeing,
The dead are breathing and the mummies dance in geriatric style,
The amputees are rolling down the aisles.

Come to the banquet at the world's end.

Candlelight and party hats,
Duck and pheasant under glass,
Aluminum walkers, thin white canes, caviar and pink champagne,
The bride and the groom waltz on clubfoot lane at the banquet at the world's end,
The banquet at the world's end,
The banquet at the world's end.

Say the beautiful people, (the poor are coming) "We'll live with the lights out, (the lame are running) leave us alone now (the blind are seeing) 'cause hell feels like home now" (the dead are breathing)

Meanwhile...

But the poor are coming,
The lame are running in their sleazy clothes and orthopedic shoes,
There's a harelip spokesman shouting out the news.

Come to the banquet at the world's end,
Come to the banquet at the world's end,
Come to the banquet at the world's end.