Eat the Rich

Never meant to be living here beneath this bridge

But it was the music and the mayhem and the mushrooms that mothered this madness

Moved under the highway with this heavy-hearted handful of hard-ass gut-busted misfits

Got dropped on this corner sometime late last year

And that Magic Bus rolled on without even blowing one single kiss

So if I express my misgivings over your save-the-world mission

All’s I can say is “eat the rich before they eats you”

 

(chorus)

It’s time to eat the rich

Yea, verily, it is written

It’s time to eat the rich

Praise the Lord and pass the ammunition

It’s time to eat the rich

They oh so tender and they taste-ess just like chicken

It’s time to eat the rich

Won’t you get on board with that cannibal religion?

 

Well I been feeling it strong—here lately—mmm-mmm—my Mojo

‘Cuz you know—yeah you know—I been reading the signs

On this one side—it is written “no parking north (or south) of here”

But on the other side—it’s giving out cosmic advice (eat the rich?)

Now I can’t help-a-wondering—is that white meat or dark meat?

Though all us God’s childrens loves a good barbeque

So spare not the cost and pour on the sauce

Eat the rich—they are cannibals too

 

(coda)

It’s time to eat the rich and—oh, by the way—fuck that old Magic Bus

(‘Cuz it ain’t never coming back, etc.)

 

Where that bus driver drive off to?  Good thing she ain’t rich.  She looking mighty tasty.  Where my Gravy Train?  Merely left a stain.  On my brain.   Pulled on out of the station without me.  Say, just how special is that special sauce anyway?  What?  You can’t say?  Now just repeats after me—“lengua en salsa.”  See here.  No more of your lip!  It’s in the stew.  Hoo-hoo!  What?  You can’t see?  That your eyeball staring back at me from the salad plate?  Jeepers creepers, I ain’t eating your peepers!  Mama?  Make it stop!  That food’s looking at me!  I can’t believe I ate the whole upper class.  Ahhhh… URP!  Excuse me!       

 

 

Thomas Hubbard (7/10/2008)

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