| See when you have the face of a man | |
| Spread thin over 3 half finished records | |
| It's likely the hand doctors will knock and or ring | |
| With a child's map of your muscle and mountain top voice | |
| To agree you need help to the tune of twice | |
| As much popular music | |
| The daughters of if, but are desperate | |
| Drug strung rock czars can be a sloppy candy | |
| For the emotional want some of many many land U.S.A. | |
| Another big easy for its dynamite audience | |
| All half deciding who is more popular | |
| The good great grandchild of Napoleon | |
| Or Carol Burnett's spotlight mop up man | |
| They vote by pushing colored | |
| Pins into empty check box marked | |
| Flaps of flesh located on the backs | |
| Of their miniature dogs necks | |
| Upon doing so while outside | |
| The pin poked pet neck votes are then tallied | |
| Beneath the breathy crackle | |
| Of a freshly turned off cop car | |
| By alert middle class worms hid in the heads | |
| Of Ford model mailmen | |
| Who say | |
| (Psst, psst) | |
| They say the sun is flipped | |
| By hat-tipped private dicks | |
| Who lean like | |
| (Psst, psst) | |
| Prey eyed eagles up-on classic looking lampposts | |
| Lined with the many levers that start and stop | |
| All of the stars the rich folks want | |
| Fuck Kelly Osbourne, yeah | |
| And they in turn | |
| (Spit, pit, pit, pit) | |
| Pay the gumshoe's mattress well to sing | |
| "The U.S. sparkles like George Washington at 21" | |
| Sucking the solid gold from solid ground | |
| Using his hallowed topless chopped cherry tree straw | |
| And the wealthy west can not be asked | |
| Who decides when they shoot a spectacular | |
| Until the cameraman's eyesight | |
| Starts hurting of coarse | |
| And if they say so | |
| This songs isn't happening | |
| And they will have | |
| Their poems sung to them | |
| Or they will have nothing at all |
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