written thereins a map for you fine young cannibals with mandibles waving in the wind about the holy goat and training your prose to trick the nose cuz it stinks so bad.
wether yer coastin or not they're peddlin it
that settles it day in day out kettles lit
son up im mean sun down come back and rise again, finnagin.
tell us of the times gone by n that the charriots could fly n that some white guy fell from the star lit sky gold sashed and answers in his eyes cry but mostly in april and not for the likes of you or i and i so last i checked ya cant bow until youve stood for something at least as tall as u or i, so in late july wear a hat to combat harmful uv a and uv b rays, raise the maze and clear the ears in the fall with the apples. make good with booze if you so choose n puff the goat's green weeds if ya feel the need.
anyway dont fret your bass tonight just let the tone wobble like our mom, tom...
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