Wouldn't it be sad if there were no cones
No, not ice-cream cones
Cones are soul brothers with processed points
At the tips of their foreheads
Some wear lime green phosphorescent
Imitation leather jackets and pants
Others are fairly normal-formal excepting
Those flood ankles on their bright orange slacks

"That's a flashy outfit mini-mama
Hey now, hey now, hey now
I could kiss your thigh"

They stand in front of The Wiggy-A-Go-Go
And slap their chins
We really respect them for their confidence
It's too bad everyone can't be as confident as a cone
(they're great losers)

Do the Skate, Shing-a-ling, Boog-a-loo
"Come on with me an' we'll spin some
Fine platters, darlin'."

Oh, cones! You send us with your fantastic lines

"What's your favorite form of recreation darling?
Hey now, hey now, hey now
I could kiss your thigh."
"Say Sno-white, can I give you a ride in my
Outasight metal-flake Bonneville?
Hey darlin', you come here with me, woman
To my righteous pad in L.A. and we can
Booze it up and have some f-i-i-i-n-e lovin'

Hey now, hey now, hey now
I could kiss your thigh."