* (now the evening has come to a close  and I've had my last dance with you  so on to the empty streets with me  and it might be my last chance with you  so I might as well get it over with  the things I have to say  won't wait until another day)    Shut up  Whoooooo  Whoooooo  Whoooooo  Check this out    The Fabulous structure that's coaxed out of rubbles puddles splash  Mechanisms burn with beeping sounds that own their humans sold as  ruthless rounds of radio dust, Cranial mush, men get flattened out  radials spun on dusted combatant joust  after house of the dead heads fled, it's just the city moans  Malignant kid in it with sentence of sinister conferred  Magna-funk asbestos, the best at closed-quarters shit  Some will gravitate to the falcon and burn in wordlessness  hangin' with the herd is my joy  we buoy ordertake employ  When the farmers feed the murder rate ploy  we stow collected rebel factions in dirt and just follow  the citizens all love to be loved, we just follow  figure they ate the kids, homey  so fuck em save the adults  Kids are patriotic, robotic, operate catapults  And goose-step over innocence  Vagrant of Reaganomics phasing  Read the books that will burn at the barn raising  (Independent like a fuck) (Oh, Jesus)  You misinterpreted that Funcrush shit  So man, funcrush this  spectacular dawning of the heardthinner faction where distraction is bliss  Tyrell took a sabatical but back for the new semester (rockin that)  class action suit from the Laundromat of velour and pressed polyester  American history exo-bytes cypher with the tainted offspring, gimme nodos quick  you need to haul that mega-dumb style to the antique roadshow, bitch  the system bleeds for the radio angry, rock that wound aesthetic  the name of this routine is live at man you just don't get it  please try to compartmentalize my dick  with a little bit a that bitch hubris  when the ritalin starts to fade I might get lucid  every mindfuck i handout comes with a free month of internet access  and an updated year 2003 version of the mega clapper (you know the drill, clap off)  this is the third installment of a prequel that was never written right  filmed with that classic Brooklyn magic, without Lucasarts graphics    rendered cuddly comic relief creatures or terrible child actors  get off that jade elephant, you're stoned, and remember everything backwards