The Unspectacular Whiteboy Slave Song

Sure, the u-boat pirate in the nuclear suit’s cool
But the photograph in my chest’s exposed
So let him come over and have a look at my chart
Put a tube in me and turn the bed down
I’m not getting the blues, I’ve got the spots andI’ll believe it
When I see it on the beach with politics and superstition
Boiling over on me, from the pot of cherry bombs and scuba divers
In the sun at the equator or in a small hotel room with a hundred humidifiers
The truth about radiation is:
Just imagine how the bomb feels, Remember your mom
When you’re as unspectacular as the white boy slave song
White Boys
Ain’t got no slave song
So we invented
Radiation
Who other than us wonder bread shit heads
Would go out and build an H-bomb
When you put it in the ocean, we took care of the prescriptions
Your yearbook, bookshelf, and old radio
Stubs of pencils from 1990
The screw in your right arm
Your blood and your bottles
Your credit card collection and your out of court settlement
Medallionds and trinkets
Your day of the dead banquet table
And all these last pieces of yard sale
I’m lost in Boston with a head full of xanax
While they’re in the living room
Watching your TV