One Shell, Two Shell, Red Shell, Blue Shell

One shell, two shell, red shell, blue shell,
Death-on-swift-wings-comes-for-you-shell.
It’s a cart race, not an arms race, so why can’t you see,
How there used to be koopa troopas on Koopa Troopa beach?
We’re all born on the finish line, everything’s fine, waiting on our time to
shine,
But it’s over fast, hit the gas and blast past, pray you don’t crash before
your time,
You can’t spell kart without heart unless you spell it correctly so here’s what
I’m trying to say,
I feel in the wheels of my automobile that this is real, there’s no driving
away.
Brothers versus brothers, fungus versus others, fratricide, fungicide,
nowhere to hide,
We’re slipping on our own peels, tires squeal, bending steel, this the end of
the line,
Racing like stallions with irate Italians, the world’s gone bananas on us
anyway,
Live and learn, twist and turn, crash and burn, I’m concerned we’ll all be boos
by the end of the day,
Bananas should fight starvation, not be a source of aggravation,
We’re spinning out, spinning out, spinning out-ow-out!
We’ve got our fingers on the trigger, but the lightning bolts can’t make us
bigger
We’re fading away, fading away, fading away-hey-ay!
One banana, two banana, three banana, four!
Bowser’s trousers, no more war!