tincantheory

ull new transflations — Rosetta Stone hypothoses

Category: Songs

Boots Mama Boogie

Who gotcha boots. Botta boots. boots.

Scoots in the suits. Inna suits. suits.

Who’s gotsa swiiing inna me me me

Downtown to sing mama blue decree

Boots in the roots. River roots. roots.

Boots come a boots inna boot-boot-boots.

 

Where mama stare? Over there. there.

Clean underwear. Cause ya care. care.

I got the tiiime gumma golden grime.

Wisky for wine with those pantsomine.

Mama beware. Cause we care. care.

Ifin fall there you so-close-almost there.

 

 

Cat Sometimes

I run up all

I cat sometimes

Me ffft ffft ffft my way

 

I catch them all

The mouse sometimes

And sleep sleep sleep a day

 

I num de tox

My litter box

From silver bowl cafe

 

I rub your leg

I cat sometimes

‘Til cat is go away

 

 

We, on the Hole, are Advancing (First Glancing)

I am believer

of Almighty God

but I fall through

The basement of he.

A putrid retriever

of gall might applaud

on the lewdest

abasement of me.

 

AND I

grip and I grip and I

READ ON THE LIPS

of the Savior

there calling to

Slow down my slip

But the shiniest things

and the diamondest rings

have me

HAHA!

this world and this

PLASTIC I SING!

Because

ALL of me ALL of me ALL of my

knowledge is based on the

smartiest smarties

of colleges.

Waste on the wastage of

human symbolic and

lost on the

courses of

whoreses in frolic,

and nobody knows

but the TVest shows

and the smile that grows

as we

WIPE AT OUR NOSE!

turn our back on the day,

and make

WRACK out of clay,

slack the law to hurrah

and take

monies to mall,

change the

fairness and squareness

to what we believe,

and hide Jesus the Christ

as a card up our sleeve.

 

 

Gotter Oughter (or GPI: General Paralysis of the In Vain)

(clap clap clap)

I was a lot–

Forget me not!

My head is coal;

My arse is hot!

If I’m around

the afterthought,

Tell everyone

I’ve got my ought.

 

(shh shh shh)

 

About the years of eighty-two,

I newly borned

Just likey you!

 

But I was given special eyes

And blinded to

my own demise.

 

(clap clap clap)

 

I am a ton–

Egregious one–

A misty eye,

A burning bun.

If I’m aground,

I was outdone–

Too late to stay;

Too dead to run.

 

(shh shh shh)

 

Around the year two-thousand-three,

I shed the bread

For Bourgeoisie.

 

I took it to the peopled streets

To beg for

Glitter bits to eat.

 

(clap clap clap)

 

I was a lot–

FORGET ME NOT!

My head is coal;

My arse is hot!

If I’m around

the afterthought,

Tell everyone

I’ve got my ought.

 

from EARTH ORPHANS OF SKY PATROCIDE: the musical

 

Oh if

Whoreses, of course, it’s

a magical horse,

And my friend the deflorist

drops clams in the porridge

It’s HIIIIGH LIIIIFE!

Hohhhh, my goodness, it’s

HIIIIIGH LIIIIIFE!

 

Annnnd theeeee

Blames gotta name

for a splunderful game

Drop your shame to proclaim

in the Hallest of Faaaaame!

Hohhhh, my lovely,

A HIIIIIGH LIIIIFE!

Paaaaass the Jello it’s

HIIIIIIGH LIIIIIFE!

Piiiiss the yellow it’s

HIIIIIIGH LIIIIIIIIFE!

 

And her Skirt!

seven flirt!

Ohhhh the Devil COVERT!

SPOON AND SPILLING DESSERT on our

Poloest SHIIIIIIIIIIRT!

 

OHHHHHH my goodness, it’s

HIIIIIGH LIIIIIIFE!

Walllllk the doggie in

HIIIIIIIGH LIIIIIIIFE!

honnnnk your horny with

HIIIIIIIIIGH LIIIIIIIIFE!

Guuuuzz the bubbly to

HIIIIIIIIGH LIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIFE!

 

dirt.

 

Because We All Cum Laude

(clap clap clap)

Ha ha ha

He he he

We too alive

To death decreed

We too high five

For judgement plea

And too upright

For bended knee.

 

Ho ho ho

Hey hey hey

We shovin’ off

The rocks today

We sputter cough

Then sail away

On water soft

And sweetly grey.

 

Hi hi hi

Lo lo lo

There on the brink

Of water hole

Begin to sink

And gulp below

To salty drink

We mother go.

(clap clap clap)

 

Buford and Charlie and the Rapture: The Musical

(Adult orphans singing–Mr. Buford among.)

For not for where

For never care–

For store us all in tuperware–

Preserved for all the dwellers in the

deep refridge of hell.

 

For love for hate

For boredom’s sake–

For sleeping with our sex awake–

Reserved for explications with the

midnight caramel.

 

(spotlight on Mr. Buford and dog, Charlie–forlorn soliloquy in song)

And then

For shame

For barely knew the name

For showing to the party late

And snoozing when we came.

 

(Now talking–sad acceptance)

Well…

I guess that’s about it, old boy

Guess we kinda…missed the boat.

Heh…that’s a cliche

We’re all sorta cliches by now.

Well, there she goes.

Wind in her sails.

Wave, Charlie.

Goodbye!

Goodbye!

 

(Buford return to singing)

Verbose verghost

Verdemonhost–

Forever vied to hold the most–

But lo the boat is sailed and now we

have no light to veil.

 

(Quiet chanting)

Boat sail away, boat sail away, boat sail…

Boat sail away, boat sail away, boat sail…

 

(Buford Sighs)

 

(Pause, burst of light and confetti. All dance energetic–enter line girls in full kick and costume)

Boat sail away! Boat sail away! Boat sail!

Boat sail away! Boat sail away! Boat sail!

 

Personify the world

He’s kind of a jerk

But what if he’s a girl?

She’s corners to lurk

Prancin’ the expanses for a dollar                                                                  

(That’s it?)

Gnawing the advances of our fathers                                                      

(To spit)

Whorin’ neosporin and formin’ back into clayyyyy

our

BOAT SAIL AWAY! BOAT SAIL AWAY! BOAT SELL! BOAT SAIL AWAY! BOAT SELL AWAY! BOAT SMELL! BOAT SELL AWAY! BOAT SELL AWAY! SELL IT AWAYYYY!

Yeah!

(Hold last pose and all loosen up at once and kind of start laughing about random songs and being dead and stuff)

FADE OUT

Moo

The pasture is sweet.

Our drops are rank.

We giggle and greet

The swank the swank.

We come from our mothers

To grind on each others

And growing of wheat

Forsake forsake.

 

The outlook is bleak.

The slank is blank.

We offer the teat

To crank to crank.

We run from the farmer,

That vegetable charmer,

And taketh our meat

To bank to bank.

 

Hornblower

Chap. Chap.

Smack on the rat

Smack on the rat with the flea

Clap clap.

 

Snap. Snap.

Jig on the mat

Jig on the mat with a me

Clap clap.

 

Hap. Hap.

Happen to flap

Happen to flap in the breeze

Crap crap.

 

Doom. Gloom.

Guide to the groom.

Guide to the groom in the sea!

Boom Boom.

 

Rats in the cheese. Clap.

Flap in the breeze. Crap.

Jig on the mat with a me.

Clap Clap.

 

Doom in the Gloom.  Tomb.

Guide to the groom. Whom?

Guide to the groom in the sea!

Boom boom.

 

Scribble Scrabble

Scribble on the pip

Scrabble whenna why

Can’t get out cuz I’m gettin’ by

Quibble with a hip

Kibble inner thigh

No make dough in a field o’ rye

fly, by, deep, fry

Can’t how now that the brown cow die

No kung pao when the chicken fly

 

Clap, clap, clap, clap

 

Scribble little lie

Scrabble on your own

Can’t point out when the in don’t know

Buy em in the eyes

Sell em down below

Can’t honk car if the horn don’t go

Oh, no, es, crow

Can’t steer right when the car’s in tow

Can’t see hands for the puppet show

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