Sherbert

A little something plucked from the Port Authority Dunkin’

Fritter still on his fingers, exquisite corpse and curmudgeon

I stick a fork in a forgery like a sword in a stomach

Hit the corner store for cash, and corner formula one-in’

Down to run in to whatever local folklore summon

A pair of horns in the forest, dividing tourist and luggage

Or an apparition back in the building and hacking flat screens

Something a mother could love and monster hunter maltreat

Hallowed be the porterhouse sear, who’s asking?

Oil in the skillet, six minutes each facet, and fat

Pad of butter, had to bat it past the biome

Sometimes you gotta pass a pack of matches to the pyro

And when the pirates eat, ya sneak a rabbit to the coyote

Then plant a couple trees and hope it average to a high note

Behind the door another door, it’s torture to the prying eye

Another four or five, it’s sure to climb to, "My-oh-my."

I die inside and all the whining turn to, "I've arrived.”

My second life I’m like the Lion-O with the light up eyes

Get in line with how we loom in the swamp

It’s where no matter what you grew up on, the future is goth

It’s where no matter what your shoes are, do the hooligan bop

In fact let’s bring out every shoe that we’ve mocked

I was being a ass, splendor bender, in the sauce with the radicals

Clash with the officers, talk to the animals, look

You could be the hero of the whole thing

You could be the watcher in the wait

You could be the likes of which we ain’t seen

Just not today, no not today

Just not today, no not today

Just not today, no not today

The bonobo recognizes its reflection

Immediately followed by the signs of hypertension

And how the science fails you when your scent defies convention

There’s nothing in the text about the ventures I excel in

There’s nothing indirect about the shell that I’m myself in

Or the pelt that I rebel in with the shrunken-head lapel pin

Television with the VCR built-in

It’s where my lady knit a scarf and let the Dark Crystal spin

Warlock summer camp, soup's on all day

Get yourself a spoon before the noodles up and crawl away

Tunnel through the undergrowth, his phone think he on a plane

Duty calls for the baddest brute in Baldur's Gate

Wide-striped rugby, in with a somersault

Out with the golden coin purse and cursed monkey paw

File it with the Bobby Brady tiki

And things that could potentially accommodate a genie

I write postcards from after the afterburner

Where I hope when someone put a backup version on the server

First, but first the block party Hamburglar

Who also fill a thermos up with punch made of sherbert

And skrrrrt, to the moon, the sometimes astronaut’s

3-2-1 ignition like a sunrise at Angkor Wat

Aiming at your avatar, bringing y'all the breaking news

Breaking up your little club, steady ricocheting fools

You could be the hero of the whole thing

You could be the watcher in the wait

You could be the likes of which we ain’t seen

Just not today, no not today

Just not today, no not today

Just not today, no not today

Not today, just not today

Just not today, no no no

Not today