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world agape - busdriver lyrics

whoo!
art rap, art rap, art rap, art rap!
whoo!

who better qualified to mediate in the larp discord/
with my dewy moleskin brewing cauldron and karmic orb/
i’m fully pantsless like the wooly mammoth from the tar pit gorge/
yet i’m david carradine taking thorazine off the starship oars/
no godhead in the blog thread stringing this harpsichord/
no tasteful tunes, just tablespoons of parsnip porridge/
of the bleeded ether from the greenpeacer’s alarmist lore/

(chorus)
i’m dashing and windblown/
when the world’s agape/
and i bookend your smiles with unhappy endings/
i’m dashing and windblown/
when the world’s agape/

drop orange rind on the war crime set in the crowded ballot/
with my in-laws and limbaugh singing a power ballad/
their price gouging funds their night outings and flowered phallice/
more than spider bites we give them writer’s strikes and an endowed outage/
the ulcer gargle and dulcimer drone are character-driven/
like the “no sir” art show, sulfur marble and american women/
this bonus disk shows my showmanship and parenting ac-men/

(chorus)
i’m dashing and windblown/
when the world’s agape/
and i bookend your smiles with unhappy endings/
i’m dashing and windblown/
when the world’s agape/
oh what to do/

oh what to do when the world we service is a whirling dervish/
and my sidekick aids his surly cervix he’s burly and girlish/
and i’m isaac hayes on a gurney in zurich saying/
“man up p-ss! right now!”/
we’re telling kids/
“oh yes, you can’t”/

i’m rushed to hair and make-up on the war-torn beachfront/
where i narrate stuff like a foreign-born creampuff/
but i forewarn the teen pups that their core’s worn and pre-shrunk/
then in poor form, i triple lutz and i land on my gristle hump/
but really/
i’m into spooning and spoonerisms/
and i make a splash like my hands are two-thirds fish fin/
because when i talk it’s like nuclear fission yet it resonates/
like a ferris bueller ditch party/
apply the oil-slick sheen of the blue man group/
eat soylent green by the two-hand scoop/
when you see my face at the newsstand booth/
with plutonium in his thermos/
i got obi-wan discharged/
with my phony gun and lip service/
i earned the large gift card/
to stir up the stern cl-ss kings and nurture the saplings/

i earn medals dirt-pedal with the facial hair of burt reynolds/
burnt kettles on my turntables/
make sheet music leak coolant/
when i speak to it/

- busdriver lyrics

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