Giant Mascot Head

Brutus on my noggin like a broadcast crown

I poured Gatorade on a rotisserie corn dog

Some guy named Trent predicted the weather with his abs

I saw two mascots kiss behind the port-a-potty

And leap point into the sky like a talk-off commercial prophet

The year was 96, and my dreams were helmet-shaped

I bought 12 buns, but I brought no hot dogs

I sold my blood for a student section wristband

She wore face paint like divine punishment

We made out in a snowbank shaped like short-term

Corso wore the head, and the sky split open

72, zip, pit, turned a myth

I lost my shoes to a marching band of trombonists

And I still got love

For the creaking and the glitch

Some say I was conceived during inter-bi-week

Others say I was cloned in the ESPN trailer

My uncle tailgated through a tornado warning

He smoked brisket with the ghost of Woody Hayes

The marching band covered seal and we wept

I high-fived a dog in a letterman jacket

They said the spread was mercy, but the spread was fate

We built a shrine out of bush-like cans and chili drips

Corso wore the head, and the moon changed channels

72, nothing, and I felt something

We took a hop on the floor

And called tradition, her name was Lexi, oh legacy

And I still got love

For the team that forgets me

I majored in tailgate studies, minored in regret