Lyrics: “The Equipment Is Fine” by Dare Dukes
The casserole pan is in the wash,
Time to play board games.
Don’t get angry, don’t get cross,
This is how we stay sane.
Sane, I know no pain.
Golf umbrella for the summer rain.
Shot today an 89.
Doctor confirmed the equipment’s fine.
Chorus:
Light a candle for the little pyromaniac,
That he will see the light in the burning of a tool shed.
A wafer for the tongue of the unencumbered Prozacker,
That she’ll hear music in a chorus of weed-whackers.
I get so drowsy from the hum
Of police ‘copters hovering near.
When the Chemlawn man comes
You know it’s time to swallow beer.
Beer, German beer.
Sit on my lap I’ll let your steer.
Watch out for the radar gun.
You better believe they’ll catch you if you run.
Chorus:
Toot the car horn for the glory-hole rest-stopper,
That he’ll find ecstasy in a toilet-stall whisper.
Sing for the lady with her tender, raccoon eye,
That her brutal love might resurrect her bloodless Christ.
The Asians have traded up their car.
The Mexican is late again.
Phil resigned, that old fart,
Such a crime his severance.
Crime, crime, back-room crime.
Marinate the steak with lime.
$8.99 a pound.
It’s best when bloody, come gather round.
Chorus
This post is tagged: Lyrics