The forecast is partly cloudy

So party loudly

And make sure that it's hearty sounding

He's crowned king of the evening

Whistling the chord swings to "The Sweetest Thing"

A genie with a brown leather wish bag

With the power to wring out the clouds like a dishrag

Let it rain

Soak it in

Your electric brain and golden skin

Needs to accept the pain and hold it in

'Til the coda stops

Let that pressure in

Fizz like it's soda pop

The last ray of the setting sun

Let it come

The water pressure's better when it runs

This is second to none

Who gets the Motts

I not by chance

I rain dance

I rain dance

If they want to come

Let them come

I'll never run

I'll yell until I see my severed tongue

It weighs a metric ton

Who gets the Motts

I not by chance

I rain dance

I rain dance

And there should be no discussion

And this is the wrong time to drown in your Robitussin

So disgusting

There's a volcano erupting

I'm just waiting for ya'll to say "no" to something

Pick a card any card

Penny pub or big bizarre tittie bar

Keeping chrome rims on your shitty car

Pretty bartenders get tricked with ya'll Citi cards

Big cigars for the smoking

Tricked by reflections

Counting stars in the ocean

Oh shit

I'm just looking for my sun sign

Your spine's crooked so you unwind just like