Saturday, February 4, 2017


6’3" (To the tune of "Kiss Me" by Sixpence None The Richer) 

6’3’’…another ceiling fan down
Fuck me. Feels like my heads on fire
I dream, dream of fitting in
Normal size shoes and the bathrooms on jets
Oh, 6’3’’
Above the average man height
Slightly too big to fit through doors
I have to go and
Fire up the van to get some higher-size pants
And pills for my heart thing
I’m 6’3’’

Veal At Lunchtime (To the tune of "Steal My Sunshine" by Len)

I know..they break...their knees
(Having veal at lunchtime)
But I will not lose no sleep
(Having veal at lunchtime)
Got to keep them off their feet
(Having veal at lunchtime)

Mean Moroccan Guy At SeaWorld (To the tune of "Rockin' in the Free World" by Neil Young)

Funny side note: Fellow students in my The Evergreen State College poetry class (which fuckin' rocked and was the highlight of school, for me, don't talk shit about The Evergreen State College or poetry around me) suggested changing "Moroccan" to "Monacan" to make the titular mean guy whiter, as if that makes sense, as if anyone cares, as if anyone says "Monacan," and as if this breathtakingly stupid concept deserved a second draft. If you've never been to a The Evergreen State College seminar, reader, you're missing out. It's very stupid and cool.

I was dying in the heat
I was melting in my shoes
SeaWorld is right up the street
It had just been in the news
There was a warning sign on the fence outside
That said we shouldn't drink in the pool or on the rides
But I’m too cool
To listen to signs
So I hopped right in the pool
With a buoyant bag of wine

Mean Moroccan guy at SeaWorld (4x)

He was standing by the water
With a whistle in his hand
He was standing with his daughter
When he yelled at me I ran
Well, he caught me real quick
And he put me in a chair
Told me all about the rules
While he nibbled on a pear
Said “you’re nice kid—
Why'd you have to break the rules?
Now you’re in my makeshift jail
looking like a total fool.”

Mean Moroccan guy at SeaWorld (4x)

I thought he’d let me out at night.
I didn’t know this man.
He keeps my handcuffs tight
And he broke my hands
I’ve got giant sores all over my body
I wish I had some Coors,
or a nice hot toddy
but I’m never gonna get em
And I’ll never be free
Till the day of Armageddon
I’ll be lost at Sea…

Mean Moroccan guy at SeaWorld (4x)

Grandson In The Park (
To the tune of "Dancing in the Dark" by Bruce Springsteen)

This one I also did for poetry class (spoken, not sung) to much better reviews. The "fix a dryer" part doesn't 100% make sense but they were willing to let it slide.  

I get up in the morning
And I ain’t got nothing to do
My next door neighbor is boring
all he ever talks about is Jews
I ain’t nothing but tired
Man I’m just sick and tired of bad health
Hey there grandson
I could use just a little help
You can’t fix a dryer
You can’t fix a dryer without a chart
It’s lonely being retired
I’m hangin’ out with my grandson in the park
Ever since you got your license
I’ve been blowin’ up your phone with calls
Can tell you’re mad by your silence
But don’t forget: your mother came out of my balls
I used to bayonet Nazis
I once killed a man with a piece of rope
But then your family forgot me
And now I’m looking at you as my last hope
You can’t fix a dryer
Without an old man to teach you bout the parts
It’s lonely being retired
Let’s fire up my old Datsun, and embark

Hairy Thighs (To the tune of "Cherry Pie" by Warrant)

Squeeze my hairy thighs 
Full time squatter and this here's why
Feels so good that I must describe
My sweet hairy thighs

Knee Pads (To the tune of "Rehab" by Amy Winehouse)

They tried to make me wear my knee pads
I said no, no, no
They're hella gay
And all my friends will say so, so, so
I got A's and B's
And so I'm asking mama, please
Don't try to make me wear my knee pads
I'll go slow, slow, slow

No comments:

Post a Comment