Usually has a stern look on his face,
Stands in the middle of hurricanes,
Often has trouble with 3D technology,
Rarely raises his voice.
Has never lost his composure...ever...not even once,
Can politely question absolutely anyone into telling the truth,
Has a very public crush on OJ Simpson,
And finds CNN sets extremely difficult to navigate.
Breathes fire to ward off enemies,
And he only reads in binary,
Stole his hair from the mane of Pegasus,
And he flys!
Track Name: Smoked by a Bus
I was born in an alley, under your apartment stairs.
I haven't told right from wrong since the day I tasted air.
Take a nap on the pavement.
Are you really talking about pride?
If I ever said that I had self respect,
that truth choked up and died.
You caught the fucking bus but I sure as hell missed it.
Can you still be forgotten if you never existed?
Track Name: The Dusty Sandwich
My forehead appears to be bleeding.
When did I take my pants off?
I should perhaps get off of the roof
of that chick's new car.
I put my beer down there but now it's gone.
I think it's best I just pass out on the lawn.
I lost count anyway and can't see straight.
A nap in this dude's yard is now my fate.
Hopefully no dogs or cats come and piss on my face.
By the time that I wake up this will all be erased.
And once again I'll ask myself if this is how to live.
If I'm sleeping on the grass by choice, then something's wrong.
By noon I'll start all over again, shower, shave and eat;
communicate with comrades that I soon again will meet.
We'll drink and smoke our faces off and play some dusty riffs.
I'll end up back here on this lawn.
But contemplation is for a much more clearly sober date.
Right now I'm in too deep an inebriated state.
I'll probably think more about this once my liver rots.
But right now this lawn is much more comfortable than most cots.