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the neoprene ravine - the cool greenhouse lyrics

[verse 1]
well, i psychically channeled the lyrics for this song
from an alien equivalent of the velvet underground
who call themselves the neoprene ravine
the neoprene ravine consists of:
rou leed on vocal and lead guitar
toe mucker on drums
mirling storrison on rhythm guitar
cohn jale on viola
and pico on additional vocals
and they keep their angus maclise on a leash
and i have no idea what they’re talking about
it just flows right into me
[post*verse 1]
and electricity comes from our planet
inside my sandwich bag, withers [?]

[verse 2]
and rou says: “let me tell you about roberta broom
well, she had a spontaneous cerebral brain hemorrhage
whilst wearing my favourite silk sarong
in our version of krispy kreme
the one in our version of paddington station
i went to the hospital and they said they don’t know where it’s gone
roberta says, “you never lent me your d*mn sarong!”
now she’s got a pretty*good*but*not*mind*blowing german*j*panese fusion restaurant in the heart of alien paris
i looked so healthy back then, i was like an identity theft
too busy sucking on my little green ding dong
too busy sucking on my little green ding dong
well, whatever happened to armitage shanks?
and right now we’re working on our magnum opus
it’s gonna be absolutely zen
like, zen to the point where you don’t even need to eat
it’s called “primitive ways to train the american muscle”
i said, “primitive ways to train the american muscle”
and our problem is we’ve got so many ideas that it makes it almost impossible to move, or to write radio*friendly tunes
and we’ve also got piles, which doesn’t help, and piles is cr*p*”

[post*verse 2]
and there’s no lyrics in this bit, i’m afraid, as the psychic link was temporarily interrupted
[verse 3]
“well, i started my day with a run, and that was good
but now, i’m belching cosmic pencil shavings into my hands
and rubbing them into my sp*ce suit
eyeing up ray guns and metal detectors online
as my older brother resurfaces a sp*ce port
and rings me up periodically to tell me i’m no good
and i’ve got no stamina, and no work ethic
i enter every competition i can, i’ve lost every time
so, i guess i’m due for a big win
long time lurker, first time poster
in the shadow of the valley of pez”

[verse 4]
cohn jale says, “here, l*st is sometimes a tiny, tiny cylindrical tin*coated tin, or it takes the form of one
it likes you, and your brain, to spend the night picking ok lint from all the remotes
serenely, and with beauty, as the hippies drown in on you”

[outro]
and after band practice, we placed a series of terrible bets
and walked home, with our bus money, in the acid rain
which passed over us, like a birthday
and entered our hearts, like a dog
“we are the neoprene ravine, and we always flush standard”

- the cool greenhouse lyrics

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