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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