Alright, Harold, start up that mower! Someday I'm gonna get me a ranch down in Buckeye. I'm gonna breed jealousy and rage. I'm gonna get me a girlfriend that grows clear hair and name her Horse Cock Phepner. Then I'll take her daughter's polaroid and introduce her to my prophet toy. I'm gonna take her picture and hold it up like a mirror to every girl and boy. I'll change her into a welldigger by day and a Calvinist by night. She'll be predestined to become an evil Jesus and kill every witch on sight. I'll take her down to the melon patch for all the folks to see, that she's as ripe as a cantalope and as invisible as me. Oh she'll buck and snort and chew her nails and holler up a storm . . . the wind will blow the clouds on in and the cumulus will form. The rain will make the rhubarb grow and the sun will make them think, then I'll pour myself some Wesson Oil and sit back and have a drink. Now I had a child once, I named him pork and beans, so he'd grow up in a hostile environment and fulfill all his parents' dreams. Yeah, I saw Dan Blocker in Playdead magazine with a soaking wet brassiere on. Your horse knows me. I had a turkey that drowned like that once. They shoot horses, don't they? WAKE UP SAM! THEY'RE PLAYING CHOPIN!
Lyrics submitted by boretronix