Check it— Can I be real a second? For just a millisecond? Let down my guard and tell the people how I feel a second? Now I’m the model of a modern major general The wirey white‐haired Whitestonian whose men are all Lining up, to put me up on a pedestal Writin’ letters to relatives Embellishing my elegance and eloquence But the triceratops’s in the room The truth is in your face when you hear the dragon cannons go
Boom!
To talk of success’d be lying How can I keep fighting when the people I’m fighting Keep surviving? We put a stop to the prying eyes inside my Retort Fly! Take the shore, of course!
no subject
The Cantata Pansophical
Can I be real a second?
For just a millisecond?
Let down my guard and tell the people how I feel a second?
Now I’m the model of a modern major general
The wirey white‐haired Whitestonian whose men are all
Lining up, to put me up on a pedestal
Writin’ letters to relatives
Embellishing my elegance and eloquence
But the triceratops’s in the room
The truth is in your face when you hear the dragon cannons go
Boom!
To talk of success’d be lying
How can I keep fighting when the people I’m fighting
Keep surviving?
We put a stop to the prying eyes inside my Retort
Fly! Take the shore, of course!