Pen’s Oil - Busdriver

Pen's Oil - Busdriver/Radioinactive/Daedelus
I want to welcome me to your country
It's far too crowded for me to be here
But I don’t wanna be there
But I just got there
But I don’t wanna ask to be re-routed
on the first day of this month's Armageddon
Writing speeches with unleavened pencil
Rewrite the scrolls of history
In the dark with a flashlight whisperingto myself
and the other diplomats from Switzerland
Me and my constituents
And Dan Rather
We like to gather
And run the world with the help of a motherboard
and a back scratcher
God’s computer
I drink a Vodka shooter
Out of an antique auctioned Luger
With a bunch of cranky cop recruiters
I offer the future in an office
With a t-shirt that buttons up
Just because the world runs on oil
Doesn’t mean oilmen should run the world
Just because the sky’s my paved road
Doesn’t mean you should pave a road over the sky
My mom is an enthusiastic movie actress
who’s in to pop-culture ethnic cleansing
Genetic blending of Mouseketeers who smile from ear to ear
For thousands of years Step-an’-Fetch-it’s make the crowd cheer
Now human shield street promoters will sleep over
and dry your hair with a leaf blower
If you don’t know the secret code word
Then don't reorder our albums that contain three leaf clovers
that give relief to ulcers
Did you know American and British royal fam will lick your oil pan
and equate a suicide bomber with a loyal fan
File a lawsuit
They’re looking out for the interest of a small group
of Illuminati lineage first-born male with horns and a tail
Pumping gasoline... how much do you want
Fill it up and clean the windshield with a rag
You’ll need a quart-of-oil
My name is Clinton Moil
I’m not from foreign soil
I’ve used a car antenna as a fencing foil
Sounds like your engine coil will make your grandson’s attention boil
Contribute and give me the rest of the money before you go
to the Statue of Liberty restroom honey
I need to go inside of the store to get you some gum
cause your breath smells like the Exxon Valdez oil spill
Free with the use of a Nascar gas-card
It's a page-turner
Where the red fern grows fuel for the bedroom stove
Rock the vote with your broccoli coat
Wouldn’t you like to be posing nude in front of frozen food
Hook
Line
And sinker but a bookbinder thinker might blow a fuse
When a tube sock hand puppet pontificates
I seek a boom-box sand bucket and song-listed tapes
from autistic apes who soul search without spoonfuls
from a fat-free yogurt hunger strike
From a covert bunker site
Testing biological warfare
Watch the tv screen spectacle until
you’re a squeaky-clean edible leafy green vegetable or
a couch potato spud with 'say no to d**gs' embroidered
in your throw pillows
Cold chills go through your arthritic metacarpals
The idea’s that you’ll get to move into your sandcastle
by pressing buttons
Branded cattle with a set of instructions of how to turn
a tv dryer and washer into a flying saucer
But not without being rushed to an eye doctor
Cause I’m not wrap so tight
Exacta knife cut retina of an adult industry
smut-peddler’s mud-wrestler...