Nick Zazove - MacGuffin lyrics

I met a Guy Hanes out
Of atomic clock contrivance
The lighter-pliant tyrants line the
Highlands like the virus
A pious riot ferments where the
Ulcers first denied it
Then sheep dipped where Stygian
Catchwords usurp the finance
I race a thin line between
The black and whitest bypass
The L caught daily rhythms
Next a prism's rightist tripe claques
Tendrils hoard Memory Lane's underpass
The troll tolls
For Slashdot district tokens jiving
Cancer into wedlock penny ante
Mortal! Preach a revelation's war-piece
To the cheap peasant who sows
The concrete's anathemic glory
You vellicate a Vorhees in the bellyache
The forged eve-
Desquamated at a morgue fleeced
To epilate for antiques-
From the Camp Green
Amusement park where suit's tie
Up the canteens my only sin: I peculate
From Little Lucy's panties
When hellraisers sliced through all the
Wires in this straightjacket
Clay tablets spring out of the underground
Names backwards

Spinal tap Mondays
Soak the moonshine with some rags to rich
Endowments craned through Tuesdays with a
Crowbar ripping ads from pigs
Wednesdays riding tides shaped like
Hieroglyphs through quaggy deserts
Thanksgiving peddled to inertia through
The static shepherd
Friday Nights festering in robes
Stolen from Arthur "Step into the eschar"
Saturday in the cardboard
Sunday march to heaven's gates
With disbelief and scepters
Then back to Monday pulling
Levers, eating duds, And band-aids

From the texture
My lesser side in ancient forms of pyro
Juggling my name inside another sordid Biro
The ink contains a parable
Of spotlight and revival
Linked with recycled recital
Repurposed for reprisal
Relinquished at the vein
Don't need a fuck to give to game
As mistaken for a face I carved
From Gorgar in my bargain basement-
Credo, Badenov to Nietsche, Camelot
To gamelan, Van Winkle with chi
Worship the plastic ROM
Comm-link to jesters at the Shiver-Isles
Vesturing a credence with a backdrop
The hero sees my cap-stock
So Plato's Cave's a bear trap
In quicksand with padlocks
To Ground me at the Zero pay, fear inveighed
Standoff none stay
These footprints tell me lemmings
Are their shadows
But miracles display a sense of backbone
So tell me- is it that woke? The world's a
Godless phony of it's image
Underneath the scrimmage
Pilgrims etch their purpose into shrinkage

Spinal tap Mondays
Wash the blood off at Niagara Falls
Endowments craned through Tuesdays with a
Wormhole to the marbled halls
Wednesdays riding tides into battle
From the Narc bazaar
Thanksgiving peddled through a permanence
Of stars invested
Friday Nights sequestering in tunics
Scrapped from emblems
"Step into the eschar"
Saturday in the armoire
Sunday march to heaven's gates
With ragtag knuckles art-warped
To Monday pulling Warlocks out the
Psyche through the cardboard