The Walrus of the Apocalypse

I am not he as you are he as the end is near
And we are all together, red, white, or blue hats
See how they run like pigs from a gun see the punches fly
I’m crying

Sitting at a Sonesta waiting for the van to come
Corporation tee shirt, stupid bloody Tuesday
Man you been a naughty boy. You let your face grow orange
I am the candidate, they are the losers
I am the walrus, orange face and white eyes

Mister rent-a-cop-man sitting, pretty little rentals in a row
See how they fly like hats in the sky, see how they run
I’m crying, I’m crying
I’m crying, I’m crying

Yellow matter custard dripping from a dead dog’s eye
Crabalocker fishwife pornographic priestess
Boy you been a naughty girl, you let your knickers down
I am the candidate, they are the losers
I am the walrus, goo goo g’ joob

Expert texpert choking smokers
Don’t you think the joker laughs at you? (Ho ho ho! He he he! Ha ha ha!)
See how they smile like pigs in a sty, see how they smiled
I’m crying

Some folks are born made to wave the flag
Ooh, they’re red, white and blue
And when the band plays “Hail to the chief”
Ooh, they point the finger at you, Lord
It ain’t me, it ain’t me, I ain’t no millionaire’s son, son
It ain’t me, it ain’t me; I ain’t no fortunate one, no

Yeah!
Some folks are born silver spoon in hand
Lord, don’t they help themselves, oh
But when the taxman comes to the door
Lord, the house looks like a rummage sale, yes

It ain’t me, it ain’t me, I ain’t no millionaire’s son, no
It ain’t me, it ain’t me; I ain’t no fortunate one, no

I ain’t got no politics
So don’t lay that rap on me
Left wing right wing up wing down
I see strip malls

It’s the bad cat white developer
Who’s created this whole damn squale
It’s the pyramid scheme of dirty jobs
And who’s gonna build your wall

Who’s gonna build your wall, boys
Who’s gonna maw your lawn
Who’s gonna cook your Mexican food
When your Mexican maid is gone

Who’s gonna wax your floors tonight
Down at the local mall
Who’s gonna wash your baby’s face
Who’s gonna build your wall

We’ve got fundamentalist muslims
We’ve got fundamentalist jew
We’ve got fundamentalist Christian
That’ll blow the whole thing up for you

But as I travel around this big ol’ world
There’s one thing that I most fear
It’s a white man in a golf shirt
With a cell phone in his ear

Hup two three four
Keep it up two three four
Hup two three four
Keep it up two three four
Company sound off!
Oh, the aim of our patrol
Is a question rather droll
For to march and drill
Over field and hillIs a military goal!
Is a military goal!
Hup two three four
Dress it up two three four
Hup two three four
Dress it up two three four
By the ranks or single file
Over every jungle mile
Oh we stamp and crush
Through the underbrush
In a military style!
In a military style!
Hup two three four
Keep it up two three four

 

“I am the Walrus” – The Beatles
“Fortunate Son” – Creedence Clearwater Revival
“Who’s Gonna Build Your Wall” – Tom Russell
“Colonel Hathi’s March” – Disney’s The Jungle Book

 

 

Be nice. It won't hurt either of us.

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s