With the fowl out of season
And plumage to rough
All of the oompth lost to
Labor Day is coming to the cuff
Well I've been tampering with foothills
Ringing up smoke
'Cause there'll be hoops to
Jump through anyways
Empty rooms and belly ups
No husing can be heard through clapboards
But in truth Shasta gravitates
To the devastating stuff
Brace take
Brace take
Born uncalibrated to magnetic north
Never split just indifferent
Never backward never forth
Lop-ridden victims squarely retract
To the root of the goldenrod
To the unelectrified jack
To the root of the goldenrod
To the unelectrified jack
