Lo and behold
By the grace of God, I am not in debt
No, I'm not old
Never bored, never sore
I am an islander, and to find success is never happy to be told
Check, share, and give up
I do what I am told
'Cause the one who calls the shots
Will never cower to commercial droll, oh droll, oh droll
Any normal human can see
Behind the glass menagerie
He can smell the potpourri
And the achy candle-corporate Christmas tree
Any psychedelic Luddite can groom
Any God-fearing crude can take and swoon
A thick sly and a fickle monopoly
They go and cash a little check from the gym and greet
And any quasi-messianic can ride
A symphony-orchestra-vanilla tripe
But any given cracker can go in
With season tickets for the coming year
In any village, old-time, old-and-dumb
You can fire up the blockchains, and then you go
They say you can't get it out of me, so I don't know
If I'll make it to the moon rock show
Lyrics provided by LRCLIB
