Don't you love that good-looking weatherman
Came on like a hurricane
Would have made a great tornado
Drank up too much rain, now your insides are
Bursting like a water main
Cooling off this hot potato
Thought I heard you moaning and wailing,
“Man, I got an awful pain
Lord, I need some novocaineâ€
And when the little birdie
that sings inside your ribcage
looks and sounds just like a dead canary
And when your best friend's
old-fashioned fancy pantsy wedding
starts to feeling kinda funerary
That's when you've got to play
your last lucky song
Don't you know that hole in your teacher's head
Oh, it's like a sewer drain
leaking in and out again
Gonna stuff that hole full of Wonder Bread
Soak up all the strife and strain
Tell him it's a wholesome grain
Saw that teacher holding his head, he said
“Man, I got an awful pain
Lord, I need some novocaineâ€
And when the little birdie
that sings inside your ribcage
looks and sounds just like a dead canary
And when that whitebread
old-fashioned spongey-wongey brainpan
starts to looking kinda green and hairy
That's when you've got to play
your last lucky song
Gonna hoe a row on the open plain
Then you fill it up again
Drag your clanking ankle chain
Gotta grow a row of your own instead
When they take your spade away
Dare them to unleash the rain
Got that warden crying and wailing
“Man, I got an awful pain
Lord, I need some novocaineâ€
And when the little birdie
that sings inside your ribcage
looks and sounds just like a dead canary
And when that good time
old-fashioned honky tonky music
starts to sounding real contemporary
That's when you've got to play
your last lucky song
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