Tag Archives: Music

You Didn’t Eat Your Broccoli, Thus…

Satan wants to eat your soul for breakfast.

Yeah, that’s a thing that Satan wants to do.

His mouth’s already watering

At the prospect of slaughtering

That tasty human spirit that is you!

Satan wants to eat your soul for breakfast.

I heard him to his Mrs. Satan say

“Hey, why don’t you and me go

“Have some eggs and Human Ego

“As a nutritious snack to start the day!”

Satan has a hunch

That it’s too soon for lunch

And, by that logic, also too soon for dinner.

But they don’t sleep-in in Hell

And to start his day off well

You are the perfect portion size of sinner!

(Everybody)!

Satan wants to eat your soul for breakfast.

He wants to fill his belly with your Id.

I hope you’ve read your Dante

‘Cause you’re what Satan wants. Hey!

That’s what you get for being a naughty kid!

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Filed under Lyrics, Poems

A Little-Known Side Benefit Of Stairs

Somewhere between the lobby

And my destination floor

The elevator chose

Not to move up anymore.

Perhaps the lift malfunctioned

When the console met my fists

But hey, no more classic rock

With jazzy little twists!

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One More Time (Anatomy Of Pop)

I met you, romantic prospect,

At a facility frequented by listeners of this genre.

It was unrealistically perfect

To look upon ya.

Then I sang about nothing!

Then I sang the same nothing!

Then the same nothing again

One more time!

I mentioned your physical appearance

But also a personal detail

To convince listeners of this genre

That you, romantic prospect, are real.

Then I sang about nothing!

Then the exact same nothing!

Then a slightly lengthened version of the same nothing

(With backup singers)

One more time!

Then I sang again about nothing!

(Because choruses, yo)

Then again about nothing!

(Because choruses bro)

One more time about nothing!

(Yay radio…)

One more time!

Fade and repeat ad infinitum…

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Filed under Lyrics, Poems

The Placelandian National Anthem

Placelandia! We celebrate

The nation that is not a state,

The place where politicians come to die!

Where residents have common sense

And our plan for national defense

Is not to be a dick to folks nearby.

Placelandia! We celebrate

Our lack (so far) of Watergate

Or other nasty scandals of that kind.

Where citizens think differently

And something backs our currency;

A country built with happiness in mind.

Placelandia! Placelandia!

A nation that can safely be ignored.

Placelandia! Placelandia!

Where drama-seeking tourists will be bored.

Placelandia! We celebrate

That here nice guys can get a date

And nobody is told they must comply.

Where everybody owns a Glock

And Fox exec Rupert Murdoch

Would not have had to cancel Firefly.

Placelandia! We celebrate

A place mostly devoid of hate,

Where legs just shave themselves if given time.

We hope you have enjoyed this song

And pop stars didn’t sing too long

Before the very easy ending rhyme.

Placelandia! Placelandia!

It’s a pretty snazzy kinda joint.

Placelandia! Placelandia!

Okay, okay, okay! We get the point!

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Filed under Lyrics, Poems, Songs

The Best Classical Music Parody You Have To Sing Yourself (Guaranteed Orgasm In 45 Seconds)

People say that music

Is the worst it’s ever been.

I disagree because of one song

Written by Herr Beethoven.

If you take his fifth symphony

(That goes Da-da-da duuuuuuuh)

And simply give it the lyrics

“Oh baby yeah, oh baby uhhh!”

It becomes a pop hit

To match the best today.

Here’s a link to prove it.

You’re welcome, by the way.

Helpful hint: Just sing those two lyrics with the melody for about twenty seconds and you’ll get the intended effect.

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I Respect These Hypothetical Natives

Somewhere where the roaring wind

Can give the snow a gentle lift

A solitary wolf begins

To sing the music of Taylor Swift.

And the natives nearby lie awake

Roused by the song from their nap

And pray the wind will roar even louder

To drown out the wolf ’cause who needs that crap?

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Death Metal Groupies

Just because your singing voice

Sounds like Jabba the Hutt

Imitating Bryan Adams

Gargling a cigarette butt

Run in slow-motion backwards

Mixed with satanic chants

And is voted less favorably

Than being bitten by ants

Doesn’t mean I don’t want to

Get into your pants.

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