Lyrics Tits Up - The Uncluded

Tits Up

5 day forecast clouds in a piss cup
Trying to pinpoint when the shit went tits up
Whatcha gonna do to get your ass out of this rut
So you don’t live your whole life tits up
(Zigga-zigga-zigga-zigga)
Precious, brothers ain’t a name in lights
A last rice cake shared under flames and dice
That know to cope, gotta swap old campfire chillers
The kind that only grow in vampire state cellars
And climb out of jars when they migrate westward
Where they were free of any chessboard square
Hi, I don’t shake beer in the dark
I write but I’m no Shakespeare in the park
I’m a grownsed up punk with an ear for a heart and I hear you
Please wait here for the ark
Yes sir.
Likely to fester inactive unless they address all the death
And distraction, shake hands with a foxhole raider
Got a grip like c-c-c-c-combo breaker
Tally up the dead folk squashed in a car
Fire still warm they couldn’t have gone far
Packed up tough in your double stuff swimtrunks
Cannonballs recalled when your shit split
Tits up
New high score on the IHop Dig-Dug
Pretty cool otherwise pretty much
Tits up
How can I save you when I can barely save myself?
Codependent No More on my audiobook shelf
Cruise to your town in my cape and my unitard
See what I can do with my lyrics and my guitar
Now I got my sidekick who brings the beatdown
Have you seen the size of his feet?
Clown shoes with his own name in gold on the side
If you’re in the dark we’ll bring a little Lite Brite
Pop in the pegs
Make cute pictures
Pick up some merch, make us permanent fixtures
On the self-help shelf of your record collection
So if shit’s tits up you can make the selection
That will take you from limp to a little bit pumped up
Our HQ is a gluten free bun truck
Shhh, zip your lips
Don’t tell the bad guys
Shine that giant bun signal in the sky
Wait a few months for us to arrive
Big group hug, a little awkward
Hi
One day you’re in luck
One day you’re stealing cigarettes from a flipped truck
Dick face, Tits up
You feel a little better when we sign your high tops
When you get home it’s the same old tits up
One half megafawna one half mall rat, haul ass
Straight face, dove-tailed ball cap
Grape ape unveil plans for the van use
Drive to your shit town, tell you that your band rules
Live with the get down, maybe out of shampoo
Radio on scan for a stanza to lampoon
Under the bum drum cutter is a real motherfuckers' motherfucker, motherfucker
Alex Karras and Conraid Bain and Leather Tuscadero
And Pinky and the Brain re-enacting the Universal masturbation movie
Dolph cold cocks Courtney love boobies and that over the shoulder anaconda
holder
You were close to the hole, you’re getting colder
Bogeyed your birdie when I powdered my putter
But there ain’t no fluffer that can fluff this nutter
One day you’re in love
One day your pills suck
One day your shits fucked
Nip tuck tits up
Snookie in a snuggie at the walt witman pitstop
Cinnabon, Bon Jovi, slippery tits up
High noon, milk duds, cherry cola big gulp
Corn dog, dim sum, moon pie, tits up
Swab your six lips with cholorform litmus
Colorforms, horshack, Rorschach
Tits up
Hey Mom, life’s good, works great, tip tops
P. S. send cash, half dead, Tits up
Riding on the back of Undercat Battlepop
Underoos, big sword, top drawers
Tits up
Can’t plug an old faithful with a fist fuck
No rain coat, no dice
Go Tits up
Shine my shoe kicking elevator missed hugs
Seventeenth floor nothing but bugs
Tits up
Brunch at the strip club, corn beef, crisp ones
Four teeth, pink tux, pornstache
Tits up
Joey Martin Lawrence — WHOA!
Little Stevie King Tut
Bad taste walkaways, eternal blame
Tits up
This’ll be remembered as the year you ruined Christmas
Figgy pudding everywhere, shitty footing
Tits up
Willy Wonka shooting blanks
Tae Bo Banks catwalk
Looking glass
Flexed ass
Fizzy lifting tits up
Block block, chop block, chop, kick, kick, punch
Step over the line if you ever feel tits up
Bert cake
Unabomber
Eyebrow
Shit’s punk
Trimmed muff not so much
Fluff’s tough
Tits up