original text at mamqa.com/ulyricsnew/wax-lemons-1867667
〈Intro: Old TV Programming & Wax〉Let's assemble our lemonade starting with some filtered water
The best part is you can do this to taste, you can make it lemony or sweet
Now you're ready for a picnic or a nice
〈.?.〉All those oils in the peel will give you an incredible burst of
Lemon squeeze
Running shit
〈Verse〉That's my favorite errand and gerund
Mean mugging concertgoers get Bobby Mcferrin-ed
Muster up emotion of a dusty old theremin
Discerning listeners can pick up my voice in the Saharan wind
Y'all mid lеvel like Maryland, latitudinally and in a bad mood usually
Not me
Shattеr convention with a pebble
At an intervention with the devil, I was level headed
My tendency to drift, such a gift, cause your thumb to lift
Like a hitch hiker tryna bum a lift
From a passing by motorist
Asinine vocalist, fascinated by colloquialisms
I quiz bums like the beach patrol
Sleeping on me in the sand, sans reaching goals
I just conducted a secret poll
Turns out some were born to run I simply seek to stroll
I speak in code through the speaker holes
A beacon that can be seen but she can't be controlled
Those in the know read between the folds
I put your wandering soul into a sleeper hold
This ain't a strangle hold, it's a newfangled hold
Whole new angle on holds I'm breaking some molds
A pimp in Anchorage, Alaska said my slang is cold
Turn you to a family dry cleaners, your whole gang will fold
〈Coda: Old TV Programming & Wax〉Ooh, ooh, ooh
Easy peasy
Oooh, ooh, ooh
Once that sugar's dissolved...
Lemon squeezy
I rose to a new level in Scientology
Didn't pay a cent, my ascent was mind boggling
〈Verse〉L. Ron looked up at me in astonishment
The laws of physics, I abolished them
You really ought to give me my proper acknowledgement
As if to the best college I went
Let's not forget this old body's not the only skin that I've been in
When I toggle in, to the god within
Of the past lives I've lived I'm more cognizant
I sang songs of both poverty and opulence
I played the tablas in the band that Ghandi's mom was in
Ancient rhythms beating in the fabric of my collagen
Power house, might of been a mitochondria
Already many mental images I might have conjured, um
With what shall I follow this up?
A fat man walking, I follow my gut
〈Outro〉Oooh, ooh oh ooh ooh
Oooh, ooh oh ooh ooh
Ugh!
