Greased and groovin’, slippin’ in the sauce. Dancin’ the wango tango, showin’ ’em who’s boss. The rhythm is a weapon goin’ boomie bangie boopie. There’s a party in the outhouse, kegger in the chicken coopie. The raven flies at midnight. The whistle clam’s tight. Oh man, ain’t this universe such an interesting place, it makes me feel like anything is possible, so come on cosmos, bring me some of that erotic butter and spread it thickly on the bread that is my engorged soul. And then we’ll dingle dangle our twinkling toes off into the supernova-in’ sun!