Positively Madison Avenue Songtext
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Joker man takes off his mask
Reveals a car salesman and at last says
"Grow up, son, you know it's just a masquerade, now
Be a good boy and get me and the boss a gatorade"
You can work up quite a thirst
Watching all 'em bubbles burst
I was following Ghandi on the twitter
He tweeted "Son, I don't like to see you bitter"
Reveals a car salesman and at last says
"Grow up, son, you know it's just a masquerade, now
Be a good boy and get me and the boss a gatorade"
You can work up quite a thirst
Watching all 'em bubbles burst
I was following Ghandi on the twitter
He tweeted "Son, I don't like to see you bitter"
But if you wanna get in this kind of shape
Well, it's abstinence and a protein shake
Or you could lose your appetite
Watching wrong pass for right
Yeah, you could lose your appetite
Watching wrong pass for right
Sit me a place at the bar
By the Dylan who was selling cars
All hail with stripes and with stars
By the Dylan who was selling cars
Voyeurs, critics, bloggers, vultures
Pick their percentage off the carcass of the culture
And what we fiddle as corporations
Pull out to other nations, give Mother Earth a facial
All men are created equal, more or less
Free to negotiate a sequel, God bless!
Don't call me a hypocrite, naive
You can take this good as given, still believe Mo-Town slam pictures of Lucky 7
While they believin' Pete Seeger has to hitch his way to heaven
I have learned the victor's secrets
You show panties and still remain a Jesus
Sit me a place at the bar
By the Dylan who was selling cars
All hail with stripes and with stars
By the Dylan who was selling cars
I don't wanna complain
But this old world seems grey
They're writing at the wall, I think
Was written to dissappear within (?!)
I'm sure your morals are beyond reproach
But it's not like I'm asking you to fly coach
I know it's uncool not to be ironic
And I know that you're bulletproof iconic
I really shouldn't be throwing stones cause
Chasing spooks on Fox I made my bones
We're all guilty of sin
After we've forced someone to keep from getting in
Those who used to hustle a ho[?!]
Fasts the nooses now out of a velvet rope
But I guess there's nothing much to do
Cause only you can write the song that gets to you
I guess there's nothing much to do
Cause only you can write the song that gets to you
Sit me a place at the bar
By the Dylan who was selling cars
Well, I guess I should be goin'
Aw, shit, is that Leonard Cohen?
Well, it's abstinence and a protein shake
Or you could lose your appetite
Watching wrong pass for right
Yeah, you could lose your appetite
Watching wrong pass for right
Sit me a place at the bar
By the Dylan who was selling cars
All hail with stripes and with stars
By the Dylan who was selling cars
Voyeurs, critics, bloggers, vultures
Pick their percentage off the carcass of the culture
And what we fiddle as corporations
Pull out to other nations, give Mother Earth a facial
All men are created equal, more or less
Free to negotiate a sequel, God bless!
Don't call me a hypocrite, naive
You can take this good as given, still believe Mo-Town slam pictures of Lucky 7
While they believin' Pete Seeger has to hitch his way to heaven
I have learned the victor's secrets
You show panties and still remain a Jesus
Sit me a place at the bar
By the Dylan who was selling cars
All hail with stripes and with stars
By the Dylan who was selling cars
I don't wanna complain
But this old world seems grey
They're writing at the wall, I think
Was written to dissappear within (?!)
I'm sure your morals are beyond reproach
But it's not like I'm asking you to fly coach
I know it's uncool not to be ironic
And I know that you're bulletproof iconic
I really shouldn't be throwing stones cause
Chasing spooks on Fox I made my bones
We're all guilty of sin
After we've forced someone to keep from getting in
Those who used to hustle a ho[?!]
Fasts the nooses now out of a velvet rope
But I guess there's nothing much to do
Cause only you can write the song that gets to you
I guess there's nothing much to do
Cause only you can write the song that gets to you
Sit me a place at the bar
By the Dylan who was selling cars
Well, I guess I should be goin'
Aw, shit, is that Leonard Cohen?
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