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As ten thousand maniacs emerge form an oasis that's everclear |
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My soundgarden was invented to blind melons and smash pumpkins |
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How could a whole nation of crash test dummies hope to release the grapes |
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of wrath |
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On the day of Sabbath knowing it'll be black |
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Especially when they might be giants and they take to the air with stone |
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temple pilots |
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I'm in a parachute club with the motley crew |
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My b-52, fires nine inch nails |
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Radiohead, I cause phonetic quiet riots |
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My tragically hip fight with the spirit of the west |
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Society's no fucking use to where white zombies have nofx |
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Now cowboys are turning into junkies |
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Hanging themselves with lasso's, singing blues about rodeo's that once |
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stood true |
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Have no time to fight with those fools |
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Alice's in chains and cold hearted iron maidens claim the have the ministry |
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of sound for U2 |
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While everyone's raging against the machines |
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Their watching us on satellites form Georgia |
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But there's more in my set than Atlantis and it won't crash into Vegas |
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cause my man smith has the arrow |
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The moral to this peril is Hades have no fury and mc's scorn |
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And I would continue this verse but nothing rhymes with orange!! |
