Spring starts when a heartbeat`s poundin` When the birds can be heard above the reckonin` carts doing some final accounting Lava flowin` in Super Farmer`s direction He`s been gettin` reprieve from the heat in the frozen-food section (yaa-Aa)
Don`t tell me what the poets are doing Don`t tell me that they`re talkin` tough Don`t tell me that they`re anti-social Somehow not anti-social enough, all right
And porn speaks to it`s splintered legions To the pink amid the withered corn stalks in them winter regions (euyeaaah) While aiming at the archetypal father He said with such broad and tentative swipes why do you even bother (yeeaaah)
Don`t tell me what the poets are doing Those Himalayas of the mind Don`t tell me what the poets been doing In the long grasses over time
{ Instra }
Don`t tell me what the poets are doing On the street and the epitome of vague Don`t tell me how the universe is altered When you find out how he gets paid, all right If there`s nothing more that you need now Lawn cut by bare-breasted women Beach bleached towels within reach for the women gotta make it that`ll make it by swimmin`
(Guitar, drum ends)
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