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I was driving home in a Dodge Stratus |
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To the contaminated side of town |
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Where the shortwave radio playing songs of the century |
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And a big black cloud of asbestos |
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Was shadowing my demise |
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Where were you this morning, Little Randy? |
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Breakdancing in the food court by yourself |
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With the honor and your attitude |
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And your jeans full of prison food |
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There's a police chalk outline where you last been seen |
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I was lacerated by my indiscretions |
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I was sanitized by the pinefresh smell |
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Of a damsel in stonewashed denim |
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The way that her sideways ponytail fell |
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Where were you this evening, Candy Apple Sweetheart? |
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Playing bass solos up on the sun |
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With your syntax in the post |
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And a clothes pin on your nose |
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And a septic tank full of all the stories you told |
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Well she called me up on a chainstore pay phone |
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She invited me up to a condo door |
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Way down in a neon park |
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To play lazer tag with her cousin, Rick |
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Where were you this morning, Blue Randy? |
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Doing capoeira up on the rooftop again |
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With your dry ice machine |
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And a fist full of creatine |
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There's a police chalk outline where you last been seen |
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Now there's a police chalk outline where you last been seen |
