This is about bronies. They communicate by stomping.
See When you have the face of a man
spread thin over 3 half finished records
Its likely The hand doctors will knock & 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 wantsome 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 napolean
or carol burnet'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...
spread thin over 3 half finished records
Its likely The hand doctors will knock & 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 wantsome 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 napolean
or carol burnet'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...
Lyrics submitted by Jinx
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This is the poetry directly out of the cd booklet, so it's not necessarily in the order on the recording.