Songwriter: MC Paul Barman
Producer: MF DOOM
Control ChloroFluoroCarbons or ignore tomorrow's problems and the rich will join the poor or starvin'
Whether you toil in the soil or you're royal's the same thing
''I love this crowd! Is this an audience or oil painting?''
Grief has four sections: Denial, Anger, Depression and Acceptance
Science Guise'll diagnose we're headed for the second
So chew on that and masticate
Procrastinate makes what should go first go last and wait
Whether oil peaks in 1960 or 2040 is weeks by cosmic standards
Autos transferred from horses and'll go back when oil depletes
Antiques are scared stiff. ''The edge of a plateau looks a lot like a cliff.''
Hindsight's 20/20
Finite can be many
It took a century to drain the oil but there's other fossil fuels
CH4 has the smallest molecules
Act now and change is still possible!
OPEC holds back, it is viewed, for kopeks So next Iraq got jacked for it's crude
150 billion barrels. Arab apparel's a 'kaffiyeh,' not a 'towel.'
After 1,2, or 3 wars, oil will still be a nonrenewable resource
Now we pay for our follies
Car corporations shut down hemp and trollies
It's a fix, both politics and getting out jollies.
Who predicts the new immigration
When sky inflicts fire, hurricane, desertification
Famine, and flood, islands go glug
And malaria spreads to new areas from bugs?
Invest in cancer drugs
We survive guided by stars
Not enough, we drive hybrid cars
Respect arrives for this hide of ours
When we're back on the range
The laws of attraction'll change
Shaved arm, waxed back, is bad for survival
A strong women'll keep you alive a lot longer
Leave behind what's too heavy: tv, torah, or a bible
Tribes'll form from one-self
Too late for remorse that Natives can no longer help
And no resources for photovoltaic cells
All things go in a circle. We work all day to pay what you burgle
Yesterday is history, twist a tree and listen to Mr. B!
New York is the shit. Give me an orchestra hit
The Big Apple roasts in the mouth of the pork on the spit
Whether you toil in the soil or you're royal's the same thing
''I love this crowd! Is this an audience or oil painting?''
Grief has four sections: Denial, Anger, Depression and Acceptance
Science Guise'll diagnose we're headed for the second
So chew on that and masticate
Procrastinate makes what should go first go last and wait
Whether oil peaks in 1960 or 2040 is weeks by cosmic standards
Autos transferred from horses and'll go back when oil depletes
Antiques are scared stiff. ''The edge of a plateau looks a lot like a cliff.''
Hindsight's 20/20
Finite can be many
It took a century to drain the oil but there's other fossil fuels
CH4 has the smallest molecules
Act now and change is still possible!
OPEC holds back, it is viewed, for kopeks So next Iraq got jacked for it's crude
150 billion barrels. Arab apparel's a 'kaffiyeh,' not a 'towel.'
After 1,2, or 3 wars, oil will still be a nonrenewable resource
Now we pay for our follies
Car corporations shut down hemp and trollies
It's a fix, both politics and getting out jollies.
Who predicts the new immigration
When sky inflicts fire, hurricane, desertification
Famine, and flood, islands go glug
And malaria spreads to new areas from bugs?
Invest in cancer drugs
We survive guided by stars
Not enough, we drive hybrid cars
Respect arrives for this hide of ours
When we're back on the range
The laws of attraction'll change
Shaved arm, waxed back, is bad for survival
A strong women'll keep you alive a lot longer
Leave behind what's too heavy: tv, torah, or a bible
Tribes'll form from one-self
Too late for remorse that Natives can no longer help
And no resources for photovoltaic cells
All things go in a circle. We work all day to pay what you burgle
Yesterday is history, twist a tree and listen to Mr. B!
New York is the shit. Give me an orchestra hit
The Big Apple roasts in the mouth of the pork on the spit
more tracks from the album
From the album