We Put So Much Work Into This

Recently we wrote a song which can be performed an infinite number of ways, but which will most likely be performed only a finite number of ways.  We performed it once.  You could perform it again and again.  We have the notes.  It has lyrics, which you can sing or not sing, depends on if you like em.  And there are guitar solos you can play.  But some people don't have guitars.  You don't have to do it anyway.  It's just a skeleton, so I guess any which way, or not at all.  Here are the notes.   So can you!

“We Put So Much Work Into This”

--An Epic Song In Moveable Parts

Subtitle: “Work Will Make You Free”—inscribed above the gates of Auschwitz.

Verse 1:

I’m not saying we’re rich or anything

But we can get by as a full-time band

We did it all by the dirty dirty sweat of our hands

We put so much work into this

If we weren’t so lazy you’d almost think we did it by plan

If we weren’t so bland you wouldn’t think us half as grand

Look at me Look at me Look at me

Now don’t look at me

Cuz we’re just one man

With a kindasorta band

But lets be real girl

We’re gonna make it big

Pitchfork dug our latest jam

Dontcha think this shit’s a banger

Like the Son of Sam

Pitchfork dug our latest jam

Whole interwebsblowin up

Sayin we’re going HAM

Are you really gonna get upset by this?

We’re just performing Stardust or was that something you missed

CHORUS:

Hey plz don’t diss

We put so much work into this

Don’t be a jerk, get to work

Don’t be a snake, don’t hiss & get pissed

We’ve put so much work into this

Hey c’mon, just pretend you like this

Verse 2:

Happy Birthday. I’m sorry that I love you.

Blobs of poo and globs of goo

How’d this shit get on my new Sea-Doo?

This is the chance for people to recognize that important things are happening to you.

We’re the smell you can’t believe comes from anything you made inside you.

Parents, reddening the deckchair of the dying day,

Live inside you, stinking, forever exploding the parking-lot of love

Into yr heart’s tangle of dry grass and locked bicycles.

Okay you don’t trust me.  It just breaks my heart.

Thank God I don’t make art cuz

Can’t start a fire

Can’t start a fire

With this here art

O yrlil world’s already fell apart

Cuz u can’t start a fire

Can’t start a fire

Even now we’re just prancing in the dark

Chorus X2

Verse 3:

All flowers are here working great mmmmmmmmmmmm

Everybody is so honest hey heyhey

I wanna be a bastardized hawk

Full of chicken, full of duck sauce

Cannibals are cool

We teach em our tools and hang out in the pool

Yeah yeahYeah

Yeah yeahYeah

Drink till u wear yr faces like masks

Give yrself productive tasks

Work till u wear yr faces like masks

Prison is a rumor

Work is freedom

Love is a tumor

Sometimes u gotta cut it out

Babyboomers, petgroomers, late Bloomers

Fleetwood Mac’s Rumors

Act yr age not yr shoe size

Work is the real prize

Grow up don’t throw up

Blow up big

Get an expensive geetar rig

I’m not an idiot

You’re an idiot

Legalize armadillos

Smoke cigarillos

I hate yall. Follow me:

Tweet tweet!

Chorus x2

MF Global freestyles:

I am Cynthia Rothrock, I am Matthew Pulver
I do roundhouse kicks, I knock down buildings
I crunch numbers, I'm motherfucking Batman
I eat bagels, I know some stuff

Konami confused me as a child
The game is Double Dribble, but that's explicitly against the rules
I blame Kobe, I'm not the first woman to do so
I divorced chicken nuggets, the breakup was hard
Now I'm vegetarian, now I'm single and McLovin' it

I dabbled in witchcraft, I am not a witch
I am Christine O'Donnell, I am Ellen Degeneres
I am Rosa Parks, I am Mike Tyson
I'm a fuckin' Studebaker, I'm a brickhouse.
I invented swag
swag
swag
I am Freddy Mercury, I am Bono
I am Chaz Bono

Here's the first shot like Han of this guitar Solo

GEETAR SOLO

Verse 4:

This finger’s fat enough to be yr workforce Gretel

Gingerbread dishpit.  I’m dumb on a professional level.

We got a new kind o’ dignity dontchu know

Our dignity’s got a camel toe

If you’re not paying attention you’d think we’re just saying words

Love tumor bosses dishy totes rat turds

Most people are fucking rotten

Why were they begotten?

Why can’t they just be forgotten

They’re so ugly

And they’re not hard workers

And they totally make fun of me

Well they’ll get on their knees

When they see our bling

And how we appear at the top of Bing

Pitchfork dug our latest jam

We’re coming for you

&You’regonna come

When u see our 3.4 from Pitchfork

Pasted outside yr door

O Everett True where are you?

We wanna go to Honolulu

Work is freedom from pain & nostalgia

Work is freedom from the Lusitane& neuralgia

Institution? No I’ve never fought the Institution

We’ve put too much work into this

Not to get our restitution

Now shut down that MySpace & open up a Beebo

Load yr vid all up on Vevo

Watch my man geetar solo

Everybody sing along with us

Now here we go

CHORUS W/ Guitar Solo x2

Verse 5:

In America, prayers are ATMs.

I hope I overdraw & loans crawl thru me like scabes

For I am the Holy Ghostwriter of all Hollywood memoirs.

I love you and hope regret fills all yr days.

True Blue is so froufrou

Truest Blue frou you froyofroufrou

I’m just a small man-child

But I’m still wild

Call me Maurice Sendak

If I give ya a 10-back

Golden-rod in the moon’s venice sea

Rust auburn, blond showfolk& me

Hogtowns, cowtowns, cockcrow 2 moondown

Droogs don workboots 2 stomp on downtrod hobos

Droogs don leathervests& kick it with bolos

I stepped on a poptop& blew out my flipflop

But then I got some dip’ dots

The moon is black

Black nasty

From pink nasty

& lilac grey hoorays

Hey heyhey

I’m a deathshark, I’m a blood-eagle

I’m a fuck-hippo, I’m a shitweasel

I’m a death-shark, I’m a rabid-beagle

Fuck blood death shit hungry hungry hippos

Fuck rabid blood death hungry hungry hippos

Holiness HolinessHoliness!

CHORUSx1

VERSE 6:

You’re never too late to be aborted.

Feeling alive was your last mistake.

Abortion is the Jimmy Dean sausage in Heaven’s Waffle House.

Fuck timelessness & savaging to redeem.

In the beginning was the Word

And God sent it by text.

The word became flesh

So that text was a sext.

Laziness is a demon that haunts us all.

O wait, a demon that haunts us all

Is not a demon.

Fuck yr inexhaustible bag of literary tricks.

Love is a literary device, a manipulable bag

Of electronic monkey dicks.

Bounce bounce rain bounce.

Blastoff yall. Drink coke.

Don’t tell jokes.

Who on facebook

Still pokes?

I looked u up on my iPad

This is so damn bad

Fuck timelessness & savaging to redeem

I redeem nothing, for redemption

Is a literary device

Bitch u got lice

On the mice

Living in yr old rice

Everybody’s so nice

Like Bo Bice

I saw you I knew I was a fool.

I wasn’t even yr favorite tool.  God fuck us dead

There’s nothing to take pride in anymore.  One’s body

Always falls short, as if off a glossy high-protein bean bag.

One’s mind can’t compete

With a pair of pretty feet,

And “living” is for money

Which leaves no room for Cunny.

CHORUS x1

VERSE 7:

I want someone to beat me up.  Punch me,

Please, right in the gut, right in the butt,

Rip my nuts out and throw them into that stew they have at the Butt Hutt.

I want someone to beat me up, Kick me,

Slap yr knife out and more than nick me.

I want someone to beat me, slit me,

Whap out yr clit into my eye

Until I sigh, “Aww dang it bit me!”

I wish everything would go ahead and die.

I don’t wanna have to kill it all myself.

I wish everything would go ahead and die,

or at least we decide on everything being deep-fried. 

Cancer humbled me into liking everything deep-fried,

even broccoli, nature’s little trees,

even baby carrots, nature’s parrots’ knees.

CHORUS x2

VERSE 8:

For a tid bit

Of topshelf

Liquor

U can lick her.

Cancer humbled me into leaving that

ignorant, lying piece of shit.

 I got so cancer-humbled I mumbled,

“I don’t like that little shit not one little bit.”

 But I fumbled it, and God heard,

“I done licked that riddle-shit like a riddle-tit.” 

Cancer humbled God, so he didn’t give a fucking sod,

and only acknowledged what I said

with a sleepy nod of his humbled head.

Takin turns lickinyrrazorburns

Both of us be makin fuss

Fuss that puss I’m a make ya cuss

Fuss ya on a truss I’m a make ya cuss

When ya ride my chocolita bus

I’m a fuss that puss

Water so good I can’t no brood

Arby’s in mah mouth dat good mood food

Got some sneakers I’m a damn new tweaker

World so new I feel like doing you

True in a blue church pew.

What’s the point is the name of this joint

I anoint my point with a big fat joint

Punch ya in the pussy and scream “Aroint!”

CHORUS x2

VERSE 9:

Biscuits & gravy

Damn I be lazy

Hazy, crazy and wavy

Shit got real

Cuz I don’t like to feel

Like a deal on heels

There’s nowhere I won’t go

Like theres nothing that I won’t show

In the right mood

If you give me some tude

I’ll give you sum food

If you eat in the nude

I’ll telecommunicate like the ood

Don’t be a prude

You know, like Dr. Who

We’re all alone in this together

Like contents in a purse made of pleather

From a foreign country                 

Where cunts is the shit that grows on trees

Harvested by all the boys

Used for fun like tired ass toys

Getting all tired                 and thrown out

Because they won’t        put         out

Makin us shout                 GET A NEW ONE              

So wuddo we do              GET A NEW ONE

Yea that’s right

Got a new one

Cut it down

From a tree

Yea that’s work

Yea I sweat

Ed           it hurt

Just like real work

Its got a purp

Burr burrburr burp

Guess that means I got a beer

Looks like about now its getting real clear

Yo           this shit itsall about work

That’s the purp                 the purppurppurp

Labor                     labor                     

But not like that Aesop rock album

But just what     about it I told him

All the sweat      the sweat            the sweat sweatsweat

And the tit          the tit                    its ititit

Its all I want it my tired ass life

When I get home from my daily strife

Of talking to you

All you fools

Just like I              fucking wanted to          

When I don’t

I really don’t want anything but what I got

A place for          my fucking cock

To get wet          maybe thrice a week

If a play my cards rite and eat my wheat

Thins     its what im in

Cuz fat chicks can’t dance on a pin with my

Im an angel

The ideal of cap’s cuntdulation

Her discracion

Its what imin      a masturbatin

To           maybe her          with a kangaroo?

Now that sounds difficult             worth paying for

So what               

If its      

A fucking bore

This        is             a free economy

So its all about me meme

Meaning the me

That’s not the me

That works for shit          for he hehe

Or she sheshe

Who gives a fuck about a pee peepee

If its not on me

Or on my clock

What the fuck is it gonna do for my cock

Big Hurt’s up to bat

Did you meme to say that?

Cuz that’s what matters

Show me some tatters

                And the type     I can eat off of

Tater tots with ketchup doves

Just like I think of

When im alone                 imagining pink

And probably one for the stink

To go up in after I make it work

Get wet’ntwerk

Nuthin if it doesn’t hurt hurthurt

Cuz that’s            how       to evaluate         a worth worthworth

And make           me         a                              spurt spurtspurt

CHORUS x3

VERSE 10:

Work is what I need Work is what I need

I flagellate my mind into sexless chicken feed

Children got no work ethic

Children are so pathetic

Fiber feral ferment fever

Fast fertile ferrule flint

Macerate the logbook logic

Remancipate the lawtook pocket

FlexshirtSexdirt

My damn pecs still hurt

I don’t get on that scene without my Dramamine

As an expert in karate I chop my shit off in yr potty

As an expert in karate I exert Tecate is a dessert

Necropolis Galapagos hippopotamus

I’m a deathshark, I’m a fuckbeagle

I’m a pus-turtle, I’m a clit-weasel

I’m the dung rolled by dung beetles

I’m minimum wage

I’m underage

I’m full of rage

It’s rude 2 act my age

Holiness HolinessHoliness!

Tired of lying under a man one night

you tore off your chemise violently and got on top of me

to ride me naked.

You stuck my prick into your cunt and began to ride me

up and down.

Perhaps the horn I had was not big enough for you for

I remember that you bent down to me face and murmured tenderly

"Fuck up, love! Fuck up, love!"

Well, I wish you good night

 But first shit into your bed and make it burst.

 Sleep soundly, my love

 Into your mouth your arse you'll shove.

 Cuz, obviously, put so much work into this.

CHORUS x until we get tired of it