Song: Theme 2157

Album: The Abortion Prophecies Volume III
Track: #10

Lyrics:

Well I went down to a field
Saw some chickens and some hens
I can't even hear myself in this mic
Don't know what I'm saying
Don't know what I'm even singing
It's not loud enough for me to hear
This is our attempt to sing bluegrass rock
We don't know what the heck we're playing
Phil's on the banjo
Seth's on lead guitar
And Forrest's on the bass
I can't hear a thing in my headphones

Seth says we sound like crap today
Cause we don't know how to play our instruments
We don't know what we're singing
We don't know what we're playing
Just, playing all kinds of beat
Got some people on the banjo
Got some people on guitar
Singin in a shack
Waiting till we get into our cars

This song sounds an awful lot like
The theme to South Park
Theme to South Park
One of us is Cartman
One of us is Kenny
Oh my God they killed Kenny

I think I have sped up since the beginning
I'm playing faster than I was in the beginning
No one cares

Everybody knows
Incest is best
Incest is best
If you're really really in
Into incest

I'm gonna have to slow this down a little bit
Cause my arms are getting tired are
Getting really tired
Let's have a really slow bridge

We are Siamese if you please
We are Siamese if you don't please
We are Siamese if you please if you please
We are Siamese like a cat
His type is
We're not Persian
Siamese
We're not Calico

Phil wants us to play for twenty minutes
I have
That's gonna be hard
A ... marsh ... mallow
That's gonna be hard
Stuck
Gonna be hard
In my nose
Gonna be hard to go for twenty minutes
I can't even hear myself speak

I think it's time for another slow bridge
Here comes some HARD ROCK
SLOW BRIDGE

I ate some cheese
It got all clogged up in my system
I couldn't go poop for a week
And when I did, it came out like a thunderstorm
All rumbly and lightningful
It was electric

Stop

Now that the storm has passed
We are singin, yeah still singin
We're not worried cause we're inside
The rain couldn't hit us on the head
We are singing like we never played an instrument before
Cause most of us have never played an instrument before
We are sitting here
In a shack ... looking
Looking out the little door
All the insulation
And now I'm gonna play the woodblock and the cowbell

Phil Taylor is the greatest banjo player
I ever saw
Ever saw
He likes ... like the band Slayer

I'm pickin the banjo
With my guitar pick
I don't know how to play
I bet it makes Jeremy sick

I'm not throwin up
I'm not throwin up
I'm not gonna vomit

During this part of the song I'm gonna sing about vomit
Yeah vomit
I don't like vomit
I hate the smell of it
It makes me want to puke
Every time I smell vomit
Like I got hit in the head by a comet
And speaking of a comet
They're sending up a probe
Sending up a probe
You should be able to see the explosion
Wait maybe that was last night
I forget it probably was
I'm no good with current events
Ooooh
I'm no good with current events
I'm no good with current events
But Phil Taylor is the greatest banjo player

I am going hoarse
I'm going hoarse
I've been singing way too loud
For way too long
I'm not a horse
I'm not a cow
But if you talk to me
Moo
I'm probably pretty strong
I can't hear a thing
I can't even talk

I have no idea what words are coming out of your mouth
But it really doesn't matter right now
Cause I'm enjoying the jam session that we're having
I'm looking down on the pedal of distortion
And I'm seeing words like "output" and "input" and "metal zone mt2"
It says "Boss" I wonder if that's the manufacturer do you?
Know the answer to my problems
Do you know the answers to my questions
Somebody's laid down the law
I wanna know
What do you know?
Where do you come from?
Do you know my mother?
Do you know my father?
Drum solo
Do you wanna be my mother?
Drum solo

*Whistles*

Once again we go back to the South Park theme
We sound like we're playing the theme to South Park
Theme to South Park

I want you to know that
I love you when smell like french toast on my bagel with cream cheese

Hard rock
Here we come baby
Here we come

Bass solo

Two thrree four

Twenty minutes is a long time to play nothin
Sing about nothin
Play nothin
Forrest's hands are gettin tired
Because he's been playing all day
And the rest of us are probably gettin tired too
But I don't know
I don't know
Cause I dont have any connection to my own emotions
I don't know what I ever feel
And I don't know how to sing I know how to squeak
Like, I'm getting hoarse
Like a horse that eats green grass in Africa
In Africa

In Africa there's horses that smoke marijuana
In Africa
I learn
I learned how to speak Swahili

Frog legs
Rabbit tails
Taste good with hot sauce

And now I'm gonna play the beach solo part
That I played in that other song
I think

I'm your daddy
I want you to know that it's time for dinner

Banjo solo

Everybody let's rock out

Thirteen seconds to end the song
We're gonna end on a big bad roll
Five four three two one

I ate a french toast
It was real good
I put mustard on top of it
I liked it cause it tasted like
French toast with mustard on top of it
It was good and eh everybody wanted to
Have some of my french toast and
I want them to play for another ten minutes
Cause that's the way it goes

I think we should stop
Why would you wanna end the song
Because we need a ...
I don't know

Before we go I must tell the listeners a little story about myself
When I was a young child I was left on the doorstep
Of the people I call my parents
But I don't know who my real mommy and daddy are
Apparently they didn't love me enough
Didn't give me no attention
Left me on a doorstep
Must've been an intervention
Mid-life crisis
I guess they didn't like me
I guess I must have had head lices

And now I've got all this that didn't grr ...
Look what you've done
As I reach for the gun
I want you to know you're the one

I pulled the trigger
And shot that darned rabbit that was eating my farm up
Stop it now
Yeahhhhh 

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