Text: Hymie's Basement. All Them Boys.

andrew broder:
spit that gum into the sun,
walk in a circle a perfect gun.
all them boys and all they noise,
all them boys and all they noise.

why?:
right now, i am not installing a carborator in my uncle's minibus,
i guess i could be enclosing the porch.
i could be applying for a job at the provident bank,
or having my cuticles cut my asian women for twenty bucks...

andrew broder:
spit that gum into the sun,
walk in a circle a perfect gun.
all them boys and all they noise,
all them boys and all they noise.

why?:
right now, i'm not clearing land in a costa rican rainforest
for american logging companies, chainsaw in hand (what are my options?).
i guess that i could chaperone the boys choir's field trip to busch gardens.
atlantic city, fist full of beach sand, bucket:
dead jellyfish (ventnor). oakercroak island. i guess i could...

andrew broder:
spit that gum into the sun,
walk in a circle a perfect gun.
all them boys and all they noise,
all them boys and all they noise.