I dreamed that they strangled Wayne Newton,
The harmonic convergence complete.
With the world in perfection, and peace and prosperity.
There was Nikes on everyone’s feet.
Jesus was there in a Santa Claus suit
And he showed Jimmy Swaggart the end of his boot.
He said, “Jim, you’re a bung-hole
I really think homosexuals are kinda neat.”
In my world of harmonic convergence,
There’ll be a cure for Sylvester Stallone.
And the kids can eat pork chops and never feel hostile,
And Nancy Reagan gets everyone stoned.
There’ll be beer in the Figidaire
And chips in the pantry.
And Shirley MacLaine will be some god in the Andes,
Where she’ll worship herself and finally leave the rest of us alone.
I dreamed that I saw Mr. Green Jeans,
In a vision that reached to the skies.
And he was wearin’ these moose horns, and his lucky rabbit’s foot.
He led this herd of duck-billed platypi.
He said, “You’re all sons of God
And you’re all sons of bitches.
You’re small for your age but you’re big for your britches,
But you keep us in stitches up in kangaroo heaven on high.”
I dreamed that I strangled Wayne Newton….
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© and ℗ 1988 Marques Bovre