One summer in my Storm hearin’ Alpha Disco Beta,

Now take it a step further and I’ll be rhymin’ Meta

Metafiction, metahuman; Jorge Borges, Wally West.

Givin’ props to John Barth, Buddy Baker and the rest.

My very next line should have something to say

But, too bad, it didn’t turn out that way.

But I don’t have pretensions and I can’t stand those that do.

To all you artsy-fartsies, yeah, I’m talking to you.

You can wear all black and read meaning into nothing

But that won’t change that you’ve got manure for stuffing.

I see the clubkids, hippies and gothic twits.

I tell you all you morons really give me fits!

You see, I'm magickal and mystical like Colonel Briggs’s White Lodge.

Not enough room for the both of us so get the hell out of Dodge!

---

I'm like Oscar Wilde if he didn't like men.

Don't put me in your mouth, you don't know where I've been.

My mind tells me I'm my own evil twin.

Don't try to go against me cause you cannot win.

---

Sweet thing, I wanna catch you like Brautigan and his trout.

So whattaya say this weekend you and I go out?

Cause I’m charming and I’m dashing and I’m a nice guy

I know that that’s unusual but you could give me a try.

But if you don’t wanna it’s no skin off my back.

Cause I’ve got more girls than Marion Barry’s got crack.

I’m quicker than Barry Allen and smarter than Querl Dox.

You’ve got nothing to give me, so get back in your box.

I’ll save the universe while you’re stuck in Carbonite.

You only care about yourself while I’m fighting for what is right.

Rock and Roll and my God are always here to guide

Cause I’m rockabilly white trash with a penchant for rhyme.

You might wonder what my point is but there’s really nothing to it.

It’s time for a chorus so why don’t we get to it?

---

I'm like Oscar Wilde if he didn't like men.

Don't put me in your mouth, you don't know where I've been.

My mind tells me I'm my own evil twin.

Don't try to go against me cause you cannot win.

---

You are Pep, see, and I’m Fanta, see?

I’m the exclamation point and you’re parentheses.

You’re Cool Ranch and I am Spicy Nacho.

You’re a wall clock, I’m a calculator watch, oh,

You’re a Viper and I am Snake Eyes.

I fit just right but you are the wrong size.

You say my metaphors make no sense

But that’s just because of your pretense

But I guess for you I’ll make it clearer:

I’m good; you’re evil, like Spock in "Mirror, Mirror."

Willie Maxwell is a blues man and he will set you straight.

Go find him in South Beach before it is too late.

I give respect to him and those that came before us.

Now it’s time to sing my last chorus.

---

I'm like Oscar Wilde if he didn't like men.

Don't put me in your mouth, you don't know where I've been.

My mind tells me I'm my own evil twin.

Don't try to go against me cause you cannot win.

---

End of the song, kids.