/Chorus/

It goes, 'one' for the money, 'two' for the show.

Well, third time's a charm, but where do you go?
I don't mean to curb stomp this glitz glamour miscellaneous,
But romp around a hungry Soundjunkie, no containing us.


/Ben Black's verse/


I'm a catacomb vagabond;
Lack a home, pack the wand.
Dabble into sorcery; a hoarder leaving caskets drawn.

Scavanging defunct rascals pummelled from the cast a' thon.
Haggle 'em for bundled hash; puff pass, I babble on.
Encompassing the snaggletooth; a tusked brash mastodon.

Summoned of a mammoth root, excuse the double jab upon
Each dummy strung in fashion of Snuffleupagus stamina.
'A sluggish puppet wrath?' Enough! Scholastic $#&@ these tag alongs.

Bunch of spic n' span magnetrons pumping leftover meat.
The tryptophan [trip to fan] plunged from grubby glut, to 'let the ogres sleep'.
Plucky hunts in solar beeks [beaks] broken beats stroked the heat.

You'd 'gobble gobble', but the modern waddle's under those who speak.
So give Thanks, this for the bludgeons within rank.
%#@!, this for the slums slitting stomachs of pig banks.

Kids who'd sliver from dungeons to witness what's rigged tank;
Busy living off some 'eat, sleep, $#&@, %#@!, and spit'. Crank it up.