We've mined calculated sleaze For countless fortnights, for this forthright Canny canning So we plead for what you can't believe And career suicide, poolside By the candied landing I withstood an unwound mortal coil At the hands of deputized beauticians This hundred pound torso broils In the Gap ads and plastic slag of New Britain Unmanned imaginarium, I implore you On your gut-caked eve Pull me from Los Angeles' large intestines And the teeth of Charlton Heston's fleas The nail-biter stratagem hallmark Constitute the rock layers of this product push That ethical value base doesn't change how you taste Or the law's arch As known by this war headed octopus Your rogue circles are nudged and summed As mere collagist's twig kraut So sell those selves with infomercial aplomb
And a face-fitting pig snout, figure it out Canucks! Canuck! Open your arms, ask yourself "Am I dangerous or endangered?" I may imagine my way to Quebec and back, Quebec and back And I may dream my way to Quebec and back, Quebec and back But I'll probably die on the way to… The jackknifing rancor of your thousand eyed face Lends itself to militarized hobnobbing with Don Johnson I leave cracked icing on course to some galvanized base And I barren showy spouse for snowy alps Cradling political asylum Green room signee! In piss-colored gold Spooning chef salads onto cartoonists' cleft palettes You'll be detuned and dyed peach to hit the mother load But this is what you'll die from "Go into the Canadian consulate like…"