From every job now I’ve been fired
From Judas to Joan of Arc inspired
Red clouds on the road required
Three new garbage men just hired
My blood-shot eyes from whiskey tired
The beehive, stovetop, tractor
moonstone, sleeping
Intrinsic sanity once bred
Candlelight soap in mineshaft bed
Coagulating pumpkin bread
Anointed vanishing street-cred
Santa’s purple mustache sled
Watch out man, your underpants are creeping
I’m out of Winston, I’m out of Kents
I’m out of knowing if any of this makes sense
Ride the rails Farmer Glickstein
in your baby-blue bus Ride the rails
Fundamental coat of arms
Easter egg hunts, factory farms
Home security alarms
Delaying fate is instant karma
Mother’s milk don’t do no harm
There’s something rotting
underneath your head gasket
Angelic pink tweak nipples, they
Can only clap in disarray
Like tuna nets in Monterrey
Like blue berets and old Caley
Aluminum foil, TV tray
New York strip steak or filet
Sad clowns climb in the Hudson Bay
Cosmetic corporations play Prosthetic clarion klaxons play
Crinkle cut potatoes lay Uncleaned, uncooked, uneaten
by the breadbasket
Deep space, primordial time
Don’t worry baby, it’s all gonna rhyme
Ride the rails Farmer Glickstein
in your baby-blue bus Ride the rails
Doritos, Cheetos, Fritos, Eatin
Honeymoon, already cheatin’
Myrna Loy and Buster Keaton
Roundly whipped and fully beaten
Mandatory meetin’, greetin’, smelly feet ‘n
who long seek the martyr
Compared to Einstein and Van Goth
I’m closer to my little toe
It’s hard to make a turnip grow
Might as well piss in the snow
Yellow windmills in my groin
Enjoin, conjoin and going to make me harder
Puss-filled blisters, scarlet fever
I don’t necessarily understand it either
But, ride the rails Farmer Glickstein
in your baby-blue bus Ride the rails
Spumoni incandescent monks
Spewing Technicolor chunks
The air replete with scarlet drunks
Camp Muskogee cluttered bunks
The postman genuflects and dunks
The whole Judeo-Christian oligarchy
I’m tryin’ to get to San Antone
The road is strewn with chicken bones
Fish entrails and scattered stones
Phantasmagoric ice cream cones
I’m sucked, I’m jacked, I’m corked,
I’m blown
But I won’t get too far from home
Unless my other trousers got my car keys
Corkscrewed brain waves
Twist and shout
I can’t say what this song is all about
But, ride the rails Farmer Glickstein
in your baby-blue bus Ride the rails