this is the place you face the music i demonstrate an

altered state with the blacklight shining on the boombox i

rush the show to the underground spot from p.m. to a.m.

you are and i am choking on smoke below the coliseum

not soft shoe ’cause i wear the new dance scoping the

girls with the shrinky dink pants milk crate steady mic

check one two feedback shellac about to break on

through broadcast by a radio station low downstairs at

the basement show mark the x on the party map a flying

v peavy sonic attack the cops are here if you believe the

rap take a five-finger deal on the silver tap i pull my hat

down take the stairs down getting together in with the

out crowd you got the beer we got the time i’m skipping

everybody in the bathroom line robot moves on a wild

rumpus standing up front where the stacks is thumpin’ so

i'm keeping it on going all night long clearing the six-foot

on the front lawn a bottleneck check your mic marinade i

come late to the masquerade to the sweatbox dirty

kneesocks and i’m

going through the back when the front door’s locked