Packard Goose

Maybe you thought I was the packard goose (da, da-da, da-da) Or the Ronald MacDonald of the nouveau-abstruse Well, fuck all them people, I don't need no excuse For bein' what I am, do you hear me, then? All them rock 'n roll writers is the worst kind of sleaze (da, da-da, da-da) Sellin' punk like some new kinda Binglish disease Is that the wave of the future? Oh, spare me please! (Ou-ou) Oh no, you gotta go Who do you write for? I wanna know I believe you is the government's whore And keepin' peoples dumb (I'm really dumb) Is where you're comin' from And keepin' peoples dumb (I'm really dumb) Is where you're coming from Fuck all them writers with the pen in their hand (da, da-da, da-da) I will be more specific so they might understand They can all kiss my ass but because it's so grand They best just stay away, ah, hey, hey, hey Hey, Joe, who did you blow? Moe pushed the button boy And you went to the show Better suck a little harder or the shekels won't flow And I don't mean your thumb So on your knees you bum Just tell yourself it's yum And suck it 'til you're numb Journalism's kinda scary And of it we should be wary Wonder what became of Mary? Hi! It's me, the girl from the bus Remember the last tour? Well, information is not knowledge Knowledge is not wisdom Wisdom is not truth Truth is not beauty Beauty is not love Love is not music Music is the best Wisdom is the domain of the wits which is extinct Beauty is a French phonetic corruption of a short cloth Neck ornament currently in resurgence If you're in the audience and like what we do (da, da-da, da-da) Well, we want you to know that we like you all too But as for the sucker who will write the review If his mind is prehensile He'll put down his pencil And have himself a squat on the Cosmic Utensil (Cosmic Utensil) Go give it all you got on the Cosmic Utensil (Cosmic Utensil) Sit and spin until you rot on the Cosmic Utensil (Cosmic Utensil) He really needs to squat on the Cosmic Utensil(Cosmic Utensil, Cosmic Utensil) Now that I got that over with I'll just play my imaginary guitar again Hey Soundin' pretty good, baby, yeah Uh, get down Uh (Hoora-ra-y-rah) Boy, what an imagination! (Hoora-ra-y-ra-y-rah) (Hoora-ra-y-rah) Love myself better than I love myself (Hoora-ra-y-ra-y-rah) I think (Hoora-ra-y-rah) What tone! (Hoora-ra-y-ra-y-rah) Sounds like an elegant gypsy (Hoora-ra-y-rah) What is that? Musk? (Hoora-ra-y-ra-y-rah) It's hip! (Hoora-ra-y-rah) (Hoora-ra-y-ra-y-rah) (Hoora-ra-y-rah) (Hoora-ra-y-ra-y-rah) (Hoora-ra-y-rah) (Hoora-ra-y-ra-y-rah)