Supersonic Slug (Dyspeptic Blues)

Got a hovercraft crapshoot Ginzu knife

With one eye on your daughter and the other on your wife

Look out Johnson, there's apes on the pole

Sleeping in a fumigated woodpecker hole

Fighting every red slinking under the bed

Feeding loyal citizens until they're overfed

Got the tinpan headgear, Redman gum fear

Eating at the funeral home

Been following a supersonic slug for a week

Got a salt-shot superblaster, shrivel up the freak

Got nothing to lose but these dyspeptic blues

And my soul - my soul

Flirting with the panties and the potties and the pricks

Official nauseation via typical tricks

Got a rockabilly hair-don't forty foot high

Like a one-legged leper sipping soda and rye

Just a ragged-ass pencil pusher fixing the books

Wearing candy-striped stockings getting dirty looks

TV dinner appetite, shoot me up a fresh deer

Keep on waking up in vomit and beer

Been following a supersonic slug for a week

Got a salt-shot superblaster, shrivel up the freak

Got nothing to lose but these dyspeptic blues

And my soul - my soul

Shifty-eyed hippies dancing naked round the fire

Shivering and-a shaking effervescent with perspire

Ate a pound of butter sitting sexy on the shelf

Metamorphosize into a screaming psychedelic elf

Yo my peg-eye and glass-leg work as team

With a hurricane brain-job stuck in a dream

She was smelling like a browny-eyed lunar flavor

Automatic dispenser of dirty favors

Been following a supersonic slug for a week

Got a salt-shot superblaster, shrivel up the freak

Got nothing to lose but these dyspeptic blues

And my soul - my soul

Auto-erotic angel, she's the safest sex around

Bug-eyed bureaucrats recycling bodies by the pound

Bloody roots and tubers digging King-Wah made in China

Keep the pickle covered or the heat-bag's gonna fine ya

Reach down in the pants, haul out a huge D-day Receptor

Threw her clean out on her ass, I knew I should've kept her

The universe all spinning round and screaming out of tune

Sucked into Darwin's Vortex like a purple-assed baboon

Got a pocket-pool high-five, never felt so damned alive

If you need me I'll be sleeping in my tomb

Been following a supersonic slug for a week

Got a salt-shot superblaster, shrivel up the freak

Got nothing to lose but these dyspeptic blues

And my soul - my soul

© Sartisohn 2003