High falutin’ cowboy ride a lightning spark, catch a leather banshee throwing rotten eggs at the dark. Dunk a head in cola and let the tollbooth shine, waltz in four-four, get the back door, it’s time to unwind.
Nothing smells like something else, a glass of bad red wine. Your two mouths both broadcast you got nothing on your mind. A game of catch takes new dimension when you’re doing it alone. Your face is so-so, so it’s a no-go, now go and get the phone.
You think you know me well but I lied about my name, and when you don’t know what to call me, my face just fades away. I’m a nightmare the next morning the details you forgot, and as they fill in slowly you wish that they had not.
Diamond mighty Mouseketeer squeeze my water bottle. Check the oil, fill the gas and butter up the throttle. What’s the point of living if I already habitate? Put on your new shoes, forget the blue news and try hard to relate.
Now I am exhausted think I’ll grab a bite to drink. I don’t think that you have thought about how I think that you can’t think. Please hand me that catalog, I’ll mail-order happiness. Don’t know what the postage is I guess I’ll have to guess.
Let me climb the tree that you got lying in your yard, it got struck by high falutin’ cowboy’s lightning rod. Tell me where I am and I’ll pretend I’m there with you. There’s nothing to fear here, hand me a near-beer, and I’ll be drunk by two.
The leather banshee haunts my street but I saw her yesterday, flattened on the pavement, a carton of eggs by where she lay. She’d been dunked in cola, anointed in her own way. Now slow to a roll and pay your toll and get in the booth and pray.