Lyrics:
broadcasts
In the Library of Congress
It wowed the crowd before it fluttered and faltered
As the powder of lost oxide caused a catch in his voice
Just
On the nine o'clock news
Just another name in the library
All checked out and the bones are buried
Somebody's stealing
My stories through the ceiling
There's
Good Morning
Morning, sir
Welcome to the National Cheese Emporium
Ah, thank you, my good man
What can I do for you, sir?
Well, I was sitting
Moosomin too
Runnin' back to Saskatoon
Red Deer, Terrace, Hanna, Medicine Hat
Sing another prairie tune
Sing another prairie tune
I been hangin'
Moosomin too
Runnin' back to Saskatoon
Red Deer, Terrace, Hanna, Medicine Hat
Sing another prairie tune
Sing another prairie tune
I been hangin'
In the space of a few years, we’ve gone from
Having the largest non-national in Europe
To this national embarrassment
I’m a bibliophile and yet I
Times, or NORML, the National Organization for Reform of Marijuana Laws, could direct you to a copy I'm sure, and in this book, among other places, it is
son, take your medicine
Damn, you're in worse shape than the national debt is in
Sittin' there useless as two shits
Hey, turn around, bend over, I'll
Medicine withheld i need so much help
The drug is the new national currency
They arrested me for freedom of expression
Now I write this bad song
Then kick
Moosomin too
Runnin' back to Saskatoon
Red Deer, Terrace, Hanna, Medicine Hat
Sing another prairie tune
Sing another prairie tune
I been hangin' around
the doctor, who pulls down the shade
And says, "My advice is to not let the boys in"
Now, the medicine man comes and he shuffles inside
He walks with
the doctor, who pulls down the shade
And says, "My advice is to not let the boys in"
Now, the medicine man comes and he shuffles inside
He walks with
the doctor, who pulls down the shade
And says, "My advice is to not let the boys in"
Now, the medicine man comes and he shuffles inside
He walks with
seen was in the library
And the last Indian I seen was headin towards Cleveland
y'all can believe in what y'all believe in
But stop the bullshittin
seen was in the library
And the last Indian I seen was headin towards Cleveland
y'all can believe in what y'all believe in
But stop the bullshittin
right, their get nice, they get by (oh my)
They get open, get ready, get primed
The national pastime is victimless crime
You want your thrill and I want
the doctor, who pulls down the shade
Sayin', "My advice is to not let the boys in"
Now, the medicine man comes and he shuffles inside
He walks with a swagger
round and trot back home
Hampshire life ain't a beach like SoCal
Yeah we may have sandy balls, but least ours are round
We're in the National League, it's
three languages, the violin, and law
At William and Mary, it was math and philosophy
He became a lawyer and built a large library
In '72, Tom wed
so she can do something challenging
She doesn’t like the curriculum
It holds nothing new for her
At the end of the day she has some fun
At the national
cold hand
Now my trauma is to end.
This national library may not survive the budget cuts. This higher learning institution has now become an insane
can see it all now national anthem make me proud
Fuck a bad bitch white house grounds library of congress hotbox down
Know I wanna take a night dip in
winner one year for the National Library of Poetry's
Annual publishing contest, circa 1994 or something
Out of tens of thousands of entries, maybe even
Mark uses our chimney bricks to build a place to watch what became,
And Girt juggles knifes on River Street
but still she claims:
National
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