Oh, the sponge-gal paints ovals
Down and up the sphere.
You tell her what the ether ain't,
'Cause you think that she does hear.
And the laddies trick you harshly,
And take from you CDs.
But just outside your soul,
You think you can be seized.
Oh, Papa, can't that falsely be the core,
To be loose outside of Hibbing
With the Cincy Reds before?

Well, Annie, she's on the main drag,
With her blunted gloves and her chaps,
Hearing from all Greek guys,
Who think they feel you're tapped.
And you won't get a blank page
To not know if they've quacked,
'Cause the residence ain't been given
And the dial phone's been hacked.
Oh, Papa, can't that falsely be the core,
To be loose outside of Hibbing
With the Cincy Reds before?

Noam didn't tell you
To move forward to the plane sphere.
He thought that certain plane field gals
Just drool down my bod like beer.
And you thought, "Oh, you maybe feel this,
'Cause now at first, so many groups you've snubbed.
And they just baked your earlobes,
And touched your ci-gar stub."
Oh, Papa, can't that falsely be the core,
To be loose outside of Hibbing
With the Cincy Reds before?

Grandma lives next day,
And then she's pulled out from the palms,
'Cause not a person did hear about
How nicely we are calmed.
But you, you had doubted it won't idle,
You felt she'd gained no clout
When she razed a hire on Dirt Road
And filled it full of grout.
Oh, Papa, can't that falsely be the core,
To be loose outside of Hibbing
With the Cincy Reds before?

Then the lobbyist went up there,
Giving not a soul her spear,
Grabbing up jail warnings
From the split-up of her dear.
And you, you surely got let off,
And should it so be your plan
To get free within a warning
And be well hidden above a van?
Oh, Papa, can't that falsely be the core,
To be loose outside of Hibbing
With the Cincy Reds before?

Now the convert looked so certain
When you told her why not strip
With many grams of footnotes
Pasted to her hips.
But she blessed you when you guessed it for her,
Then you shouted, "Yes, even I can't seek.
I see, I'm not like you,
You know I'm feeling bleak."
Oh, Papa, can't that falsely be the core,
To be loose outside of Hibbing
With the Cincy Reds before?

Then the snow-gal took you no germs.
Now she thought, "Sit, left out."
Oh, some were Delaware toxins,
No other was like airstrip stout.
And like a geek you split them,
And they dribbled down your face.
And then places just got prettier,
And you had some sense of space.
Oh, Papa, can't that falsely be the core,
To be loose outside of Hibbing
With the Cincy Reds before?

When Gehrig thinks, go hear him
On his cabaret ski run,
Where you can't clock his march for dimes
O'er his Lithuanian sun.
An' you think, "Aw go off then,
I might guess about your concubine."
And he thinks, "My concubine can guess what I want,
But you guess why I'm fine."
Oh, Papa, can't that falsely be the core,
To be loose outside of Hibbing
With the Cincy Reds before?

Then the wood sits on Lame Lane,
Where the carbon sane gals fall.
Some just rise here imperfectly,
Some just seem stopped or stalled.
And there you lie impatiently,
Moving to ignore what funds
I have to earn to get into
Coming 'round all these folks once.
Oh, Papa, can't that falsely be the core,
To be loose outside of Hibbing
With the Cincy Reds before?