An assault on everything
I'm from the Midwest,
I've got frost and heat rash.
Fuck the new yorker
you bore me to tears.
From coast to coast
Boston to San Diego,
landlocked is where it's at
Fuck you caviar, cristal, and pate
you impale my palette.
Give me rice pudding, french fries, and fancy ketchup.
Fuck you fishnet stocking
I like my music on the seedy side,
No harpsichord or well tuned strings.
Muddy Water sweating like a sow, no sexy inflated
bustier rocketing him to the top o' the pops.
Bob Dylan snorting cocaine off a piano is a real gas
not, because I advocate drugs,
but because I advocate rock & roll excess and
sloppy creative wanderings (trips).
Who makes these rules?
Is it you?
Because I'm just unsophisticated enough to
punch you right in the face.
That is if it will allow me the right to:
drink straight from the cotainer
rest my damned elbows on the table
mix black and brown
wear white after labor day.
But, I'm a mid-western pacifist.
I'll just stay out too late
Kiss too long, and talk out of turn.
Reservation is overrated,
just ask the Indians.