He gazes at her and makes her offers Opens up his soul and his pants and his coffers Tries to stain her teflon glance He brags and winks and thinks he has a chance All she really wants is a Coke. He wants her to be his Eden Boy, her ego digs the feeding He thinks violins and flowers Passion, lust and glowing summer hours. All she really wants is some sleep. Who will think of him at twilight? Who will miss him when he's gone? Who will think of him at twilight? Who will miss him when he's gone? All she really wants is to watch TV. All she really wants is someone else. All she really wants is a Coke. Who will think of him at twilight? Who will miss him when he's gone?

I saw mister postman walkin' down the street I said, "Hey, mister postman, get some posts for me I got some signs that need a postin' For a party I'm a hostin' And my fence, it needs a holdin' And some posts to keep from foldin'" And he said, "Hey kid - who do you think I am? I can't get you no posts, I'm just the postman." I saw mister undertaker walkin' down the street I said, "Hey undertaker, undertake a task or two for me I got a lawn that needs a mowin' And a row that needs a hoeing And my yard, it needs a raking Yeah, it's quite an undertaking." And he said, "Hey kid - you seem a real nice guy But you've got it all wrong, and I'm'a try to clarify You see, the butcher doesn't butch The mobster doesn't mob The worker's name is not always the name of the job Like the pharmacist, the waiter The cop, the operator And I know it's not amusing and can be a bit confusing But a lawyer doesn't law, a cowboy doesn't cow And if operators operated, we'd all be dead by now But see, making sure you're taken care of When you meet your maker That's the job that's undertaken When you call the undertaker." "The undertaker takes you under when you die, it's true," I said, "but if you undertake my tasks, there's cake in it for you, c'mon." I saw mister milkman walkin' down the street I said, "Hey, milkman, what can you get for me?" He said, "Well, milk is my game Why can't you tell from my name? I bet you're feeling pretty sorry 'Cause it's self-explanatory But I see you've been misled, so I'm gonna make concessions Now it's time to talk to you about the name of some professions See the doctor, he doctors The fisherman, he fishes And the dishwasher, he, of course, 'a washes all the dishes And every single Sunday, like that old book teach We're gonna go down to the preacher and hear him preach So here's the point that I'm 'a pointin' at To set it straight for you: What the worker's name say Is what the named worker do." Varsity letterman walkin' down the street I said, "Hey, letterman, got some letters for me? There's some mail I've been expecting And some bills that need reflecting On the payments that they're needing And some letters to be reading." And he said, "Hey kid - who do you think I am? I can't get you no letters Go ask the postman."

Cowboy 1: You see danger on every side Heathen strangers with suspicious eyes And you quake in fear and rage and greed And threaten to secede Cowboy 2: Put a little Texas on it, haw! Put a little Texas on it Put a little Texas on it and we'll ride Singing Texas Texas Texas Texas Texas Texas Texas Texas pride Put a little Texas on the Little Texas on your big old Texas heart All you lovely Texas ladies We're gonna put a little Texas on your lady parts Cowboy 1: Keep your little Texas off my shizz What the fuck do you think freedom is? Should it leave you sick, cold, dispossessed? Abandoned, yet oppressed Cowboy 2: Slap a little Texas cross the slot in the ballot box And seal it up real nice Then we'll put a little Tex in your science texts So you know T. Rex hung out with Jesus Christ Shoot a little Texas up into The clouds that sail these wide blue Texas skies And if you mess with Texas We're gonna put a little Texas right between your Yankee eyes Cowboy 1: We would never take your guns away We may need to put you down one day When your moment comes, we wouldn't dare To leave the fight unfair Cowboy 2: Put a little - (gets covid-19) (coughs) (goes on a ventilator) (dies) Cowboy 1: Like the bumper stickers on your trucks We are bound to you, which really sucks On this issue, friends, we are agreed: You simply must secede