(Radioinactive)
I want to welcome me to your country
It's far too crowded for me to be here
But I don’t wanna be there
But I just got there
But I don’t wanna ask to be re-routed on the first day of this month's Armageddon
Writing speeches with unleavened pencil
Rewrite the scrolls of history
In the dark with a flashlight whispering to myself and the other diplomats from Switzerland
Me and my constituents
And Dan Rather
We like to gather
And run the world with the help of a motherboard and a back scratcher
God’s computer
I drink a Vodka shooter
Out of an antique auctioned Luger
With a bunch of cranky cop recruiters
I offer the future in an office
With a t-shirt that buttons up

Just because the world runs on oil
Doesn’t mean oilmen should run the world
Just because the sky’s my paved road
Doesn’t mean you should pave a road over the sky

(Busdriver)
My mom is an enthusiastic movie actress who’s in to pop-culture ethnic cleansing
Genetic blending of Mouseketeers who smile from ear to ear
For thousands of years Step-an’-Fetch-it’s make the crowd cheer
Now human shield street promoters will sleep over and dry your hair with a leaf blower
If you don’t know the secret code word
Then don't reorder our albums that contain three leaf clovers that give relief to ulcers
Did you know American and British royal fam will lick your oil pan and equate a suicide bomber with a loyal fan? File a lawsuit
They’re looking out for the interest of a small group of Illuminati lineage first-born male with horns and a tail
(Radioinactive)
Pumping gasoline… how much do you want? Fill it up and clean the windshield with a rag
You’ll need a quart-of-oil
My name is Clinton Moil
I’m not from foreign soil
I’ve used a car antenna as a fencing foil
Sounds like your engine coil will make your grandson’s attention boil
Contribute and give me the rest of the money before you go to the Statue of Liberty restroom honey
I need to go inside of the store to get you some gum cause your breath smells like the Exxon Valdez oil spill
Free with the use of a Nascar gas-card
It's a page-turner
Where the red fern grows fuel for the bedroom stove
Rock the vote with your broccoli coat

(Busdriver)
Wouldn’t you like to be posing n*** in front of frozen food
Hook
Line
And sinker but a bookbinder thinker might blow a fuse
When a tube sock hand puppet pontificates
I seek a boom-box sand bucket and song-listed tapes from autistic apes who soul search without spoonfuls from a fat-free yogurt hunger strike
From a covert bunker site
Testing biological warfare
Watch the tv screen spectacle until you’re a squeaky-clean edible leafy green vegetable or a couch potato spud with 'say no to drugs' embroidered in your throw pillows
Cold chills go through your arthritic metacarpals
The idea’s that you’ll get to move into your sandcastle by pressing buttons
Branded cattle with a set of instructions of how to turn a tv dryer and washer into a flying saucer
But not without being rushed to an eye doctor
Cause I’m not wrap so tight
Exacta knife cut retina of an adult industry smut-peddler’s mud-wrestler