Letras
Is my distance from the mic proper
There's a college town
With olive green all around
Professors and skate punks rock SG
Paul's Wall Of Sound
And there's an anarchist bookstore
There's more than you'd look for
A core of local folks wait for late lifts
There's often a great drift
To the shop for the
Wednesday night five-to-eight shift
Cause the clerk at work is
The prettiest gal in town
She cries during Allentown
She's a precocious socialist and she's
Willing to pal around
Every Wednesday after French club
She rides to work
With a stuffed Mastadon in the
Basket on her bicycle
If Noam Chomsky was from the Bronx
He'd have been assassinated promptly
She said he was from the Bronx, he
Said you know what I mean, ignoramuses
Oh boy what a pain this is
Said the only paid employee, the manager
I came for culture, not accounting
And a girl put a flyer
Up above the water fountain
She carried clandestine two
Dollar mescaline in her blue collar mess tin
Plastered with stickers that said "Food
Not Bombs", "Sex Not Proms", critical Mass
That bastard, voice talent snickered
Nice graphics but that's
Just half-assed agitprop
To piss off a traffic cop aww shucks
Can it be I'm too lazy for pot lucks
If not my friends
Who am I willing to cook for
And they're chilling at
The anarchist bookstore
Will Barnes and Noble harm the global?
Will Amazon Com be round
When grandma's gone mom?
Voice talent, the rapper
Had a rapport with a stripper whore
Who he'd vote for long before
He'd vote for Tipper Gore
He re-equipped the store with the new credit
Machines and put zines in their places
He said take back the streets