this is the place you face the music i demonstrate an
altered state with the blacklight shining on the boombox i
rush the show to the underground spot from p.m. to a.m.
you are and i am choking on smoke below the coliseum
not soft shoe ’cause i wear the new dance scoping the
girls with the shrinky dink pants milk crate steady mic
check one two feedback shellac about to break on
through broadcast by a radio station low downstairs at
the basement show mark the x on the party map a flying
v peavy sonic attack the cops are here if you believe the
rap take a five-finger deal on the silver tap i pull my hat
down take the stairs down getting together in with the
out crowd you got the beer we got the time i’m skipping
everybody in the bathroom line robot moves on a wild
rumpus standing up front where the stacks is thumpin’ so
i'm keeping it on going all night long clearing the six-foot
on the front lawn a bottleneck check your mic marinade i
come late to the masquerade to the sweatbox dirty
kneesocks and i’m
going through the back when the front door’s lock