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Austin Willacy
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Feelin' Funkae
God's on the atmosphone, choking on a chicken bone
George is in the bramble rows, stroking Martha's furbelow
Cupid's in the West Wing, fixing chitlins a la king
I'm on the tightrope, trying to knit myself a net...
I'm squeezing electricity
From pure serendipitogenicity
A bubble bleeding anarchy
Troublesome and double-dealing Bumblebee Roulette
I'm feelin' FUNKAE
Feelin' fine
Do that dance, do that dance, do the dance for me
The one where you played with the gravity
Scooping up the bell peppers in style
You're my cup of chamomile
Enraptured by the fruit in your navel
I stole the freaky seeds from your bedside table
And planted 'em upside down from the ceiling
They burrowed through the bathosphere and now I'm feeling...
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FUNKAE
Feelin' fine
Why trap your mind within your body when you know your body's sinking?
One unprimatical sabbatical 'll radicalize your thinking
How can you generate a sonnet when you're one of a million monkeys?
Some psychosophical banana should be summoning you to get FUNKAE...
Get my sweetmeats out the cupboard, Mrs. Bloomstench
Bust out the custard and we'll spelunk with the monkeywrench
My bothered boysenberry, I find it necessary
To plumb the Ben-and-Jerry depths of your mind...
You suit me FUNKAE
Suits me fine
What kind of wack megalomania is skinny-dipping in your system?
Traipse off to Transcendentylvania and get with the New Soul Wisdom
Shake off that cerebello-succubus who monitors all that you do
Feed your avuncular homunculus a nugget of funk-fried voodoo...
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