
Date of issue: 09.12.2007
Song language: English
Royal Jelly |
Mailboxes drip like lampposts |
In the twisted birth canal of the coliseum |
Rim job fairy teapots mask the temper tantrum |
O' say, «Can you see 'em?» |
Stuffed cabbage is the darling of the Laundromat |
'N' the sorority mascot sat with the lumberjack |
Pressing, passing, stinging half synthetic fabrications of his time |
The mouse with the overbite |
Explained how the rabbits were ensnared |
'N' the skinny scanty sylph trashed the apothecary diplomat |
Inside the three-eyed monkey within inches of his toaster oven life |
In my mind, I’m half blind |
My inner ref is mostly deaf |
I’m smell impaired if you cared |
My sense of taste is wasted |
On the phosphorescent orange peels |
Of San Francisco axe-encrusted frenzy |
So let me touch you |
Let me touch you |
Let me touch you |
Let me touch you |
Where the Royal Jelly gets made |
Coloratura singers bringing weeds and social clingers |
Hangers-on and fancy flinger’s to the dress ball |
Mushrooms and bowling pins |
Stove pipe hats and other things I can’t recall from Juvenile hall |
We’re so unlucky and stuff |
Woodrow Wilson never had it so tough |
Dairy Queen and Vaseline and Maybelline |
Paul Bunyan and James Dean |
Allegory agencies of pre-Raphaelite paganry |
And Shenandoah tapestries compared with good mahogany |
Collapsing the undying postcard romance |
With feline perspicacity by the university |
That night I held a paucity |
Which you deemed common courtesy |
I wasn’t what you thought I’d be |
I shouldn’t have invited you to dance |
In my tree I’m halfway free |
And in my chair one quarter there |
In my dream one-sixteenth cream |
In the coffee of the courtier |
Of the sycophant assistant to the king |
So let me touch you |
Let me touch you |
Let me touch you |
Let me touch you |
Where the Royal Jelly gets made |
You’re a liar |