February 28, 2017

RPM Challenge 2017 results - BAD TOOTH EP

Catarrh Clothesline - BAD TOOTH EP
Lyrics by Rollie C. Hatch 
Find it on Bandcamp

I wouldn’t mind finding your period in my peanut butter sandwich that I am eating without jelly like I’m supposed to ‘cause I forgot to buy it at the store
And you don’t mind
And I don’t mind
That you don’t mind

I wouldn’t mind spreading your boogersnots on my Handisnacks with the plastic thing that is inedible but I still chew it and if I hold it right, then I can flick it way across the room 

And you don’t mind 
And I don’t mind 
That you don’t mind 
And I don’t mind 

And I don’t think you’d be grossed out 
If my forehead broke out 
In hives, you can bake them into pies 
You can serve them on the  side of a chicken as long as you’re not sickened 
By a drumstick mixed up with some pus, thick and spilling on your thighs 
I hope you wouldn’t mind 

I hope you wouldn’t mind tying your curly hairs to my curly fries using a Trucker’s Knot once in a while since I just learned it and I don’t floss enough but I would like to kiss you on the mouth 
And you don’t mind 
And I don’t mind 
That you don’t mind 

When they said Boom Boom Boom 
meant shooting guns in a room 
it may not have been that far from the target 

The horses threw off their shoes 
thinking they couldn’t lose 
while all the little piggies went to the market 

Advances in science and math 
Fuck, another decade has passed 
Adventures in a chemistry class 
We’ll make the next century the last 
Pull the pin and impress a lot of men. 
Everybody’s 80 who was 50 back then. 
I can press a button and impress a lot of ladies 
Everybody’s 80 who was 50 in the 80s. 

Rambo handled grenades 
Commando shared his passion 
If you had the figure then you can still go find the action 

You were alone, but someone is now sitting in your chair 
It’s your home, and you’re gonna die in there 
Run, run, run 

Pick up the phone, it’s not like you’ve forgotten how to care 
The early bird has flown, so let the worms take over the air 
Run, run, (don’t) run   

It’s always been my wish 
to prepare a sandwich 
of expired tuna fish 
and sell it on Craigslist 

It’s always been my dream 
to take a bucket of sour cream 
to the campus of Bowling Green 
And dump it on the women’s basketball team  

It’s a fantasy of mine 
to write a song that’s oldie-time 
where almost all the lyrics rhyme 
and it ends right now