Doug's Pitch

We start tired on a full moon Milky, almost yellow We crane down to reveal an idyllic, suburban street We float past a series of white picket fences Until we settle on a sewer grate Bow, flies open Something big and scaly slithers out Fast, hungry, definitely not human As a pulsating score kicks in Uh-uh-uh-uh-uh-uh Uh-uh-uh-uh-uh-uh Biga-biga-boom-boom-boom We're on the back of the beast As it slithers menacingly towards a little blue house Run-gun-gun-gun-gun Run-gun-gun-gun-gun Thun-thun-thun-thun Thun-thun-thun-thun