The geniuses of the trailer park are down to their last bag of Cheez-Its

The altar is on the fritz

They got a coat hanger for rabbit ears

Ramona’s lookin’ good tonight through the bottom of his beer glass

“She’s still got the ass,”

Thinks Gale for a second or so

He lifts her up with great big hands of love

Whenever he bothers to think about it

Pure distilled genius

Pouring through the galactic sieve

“We’re too open minded,” Gale says,

“Our brains collect a lot of rain.”

Too full of what is too pure

Better sleep it off

The geniuses of the trailer park have fallen into a stale silence

Ramona crunches a peppermint

Gale waits for the sports on the news

The place smells like oven cleaner and the burgers were burned

Ramona’s not happy with the way things’ve turned

She stares at the floral wallpaper

He takes her down with great big fists of love

But she never even thinks about it

Pure distilled genius

Pouring through the galactic sieve

“We’re too open minded,” Gale says,

“Our brains collect a lot of rain.”

Too full of what is too pure