Is my distance from the mic proper
There's a college town, with olive green all around
Professors and skate punks rock SG Paul's Wall Of Sound
And there's an anarchist bookstore, there's more than you'd look for
A core of local folks wait for late lifts, there's often a great drift
To the shop for the Wednesday night five-to-eight shift
Cause the clerk at work is the prettiest gal in town, she cries during Allentown
She's a precocious socialist and she's willing to pal around
She's twice as cool as the kids from her high si-chool [sic]
Every Wednesday after French club she rides to work
With a stuffed Mastadon in the basket on her bicycle
If Noam Chomsky was from the Bronx he'd have been assassinated promptly
She said he was from the Bronx, he said you know what I mean, ignoramuses
Oh boy what a pain this is, said the only paid employee, the manager
I came for culture, not accounting, and a girl put a flyer up above the water fountain
She carried clandestine two dollar mescaline in her blue collar mess tin
Plastered with stickers that said "Food Not Bombs", "Sex Not Proms", Critical Mass
That bastard, voice talent snickered
Nice graphics but that's just half-assed agitprop to piss off a traffic cop
Aww shucks, can it be I'm too lazy for pot lucks
If not my friends, who am I willing to cook for
And they're chilling at the anarchist bookstore
Will Barnes and Noble harm the global?
Will Amazon Com be round when grandma's gone mom?
There's a college town, with olive green all around
Professors and skate punks rock SG Paul's Wall Of Sound
And there's an anarchist bookstore, there's more than you'd look for
A core of local folks wait for late lifts, there's often a great drift
To the shop for the Wednesday night five-to-eight shift
Cause the clerk at work is the prettiest gal in town, she cries during Allentown
She's a precocious socialist and she's willing to pal around
She's twice as cool as the kids from her high si-chool [sic]
Every Wednesday after French club she rides to work
With a stuffed Mastadon in the basket on her bicycle
If Noam Chomsky was from the Bronx he'd have been assassinated promptly
She said he was from the Bronx, he said you know what I mean, ignoramuses
Oh boy what a pain this is, said the only paid employee, the manager
I came for culture, not accounting, and a girl put a flyer up above the water fountain
She carried clandestine two dollar mescaline in her blue collar mess tin
Plastered with stickers that said "Food Not Bombs", "Sex Not Proms", Critical Mass
That bastard, voice talent snickered
Nice graphics but that's just half-assed agitprop to piss off a traffic cop
Aww shucks, can it be I'm too lazy for pot lucks
If not my friends, who am I willing to cook for
And they're chilling at the anarchist bookstore
Will Barnes and Noble harm the global?
Will Amazon Com be round when grandma's gone mom?
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