Cake

Launching loony thoughts into the bending of your mind
You reach for something high but it's a mountain that you find
He's a king dust demon with an icepick smile
His music fills your feathers as you feel your passions fly
With the mustache man on the carpet of his van
You can feel your fatty tissues giving way to sweaty hands
And the woofers keep distorting and the tweeters kiss the girls
His horn-rimmed glasses lights a square beneath his curls
I have wasted so much time
I have wasted so much time
He is like a politician who is practicing a speech
He is racing, he is pacing, he is sleeping on his beat