Text: Mighty Mighty Bosstones. 1-2-8.

They made something, they played something
Brand new a baby blue machine
Brass tacks, duct tape for the great escape
Packed in there like sardines

Back and forth, east, south, west, north
Shred the atlas burn the map
Often lost and paths criss-crossed
Wake me up I need a nap

1, 2 what's in the stew
3, 4 no one's really sure
5, 6 what's in the mix
7, 8 this stuff tastes

They did something which meant something
And that got them some attention
Eyes wide, a roller coaster ride
Great pride in this invention

I think they're selling snake oil
At the dog and pony show
In the garden gee, would you pardon me?
And by the way how does it grow?

1, 2 what's in the stew
3, 4 no one's really sure
5, 6 what's in the mix
7, 8 this stuff tastes

The explanation's unexplainable
Holding onto something, once so unattainable
The course was never charted so don't look into the books
The secret's not the recipe it's got to be the cooks

They made something, they played something
Blood, sweat, and elbow grease
Well, if you can't stand the heat in the kitchen
Get out it will increase

Last train to where? Hey get out of here
Nothing's measured and nothing's weighed
A dash of honesty in the recipe
And that's the first mistake you've made

1, 2 what's in the stew
3, 4 no one's really sure
5, 6 what's in the mix
7, 8 hey this stuff tastes

1, 2 what's in the stew
3, 4 no one's really sure
5, 6 what's in the mix
7, 8 this stuff tastes great