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Publié par Moicani - L'Odéonie

Everybody was ecstatic 
'Bout the light show on the farm 
And everyone got crazy 
And nobody got harmed 
And the five televisions 
Huge upon the stage 
Had come to pay their union dues 
And make a living wage
And the bathroom was the clubhouse
Where the colors all got made 
And plans were cast in feathers 
For the Thanksgiving Day Parade

And the DJ spins his records
From here out to the sun 
And he flings them through a big hole 
In the ozone one by one 
And somewhere beyond Mercury 
The wax begins to melt 
And we touched a perfect stranger 
And we loved the way it felt
And we all hung together 
In our crew cuts and our braids
Floating down Broadway 
Above the Thanksgiving Day Parade

And you and I were discussing Natalie 
While you poised to thrust above her 
And I told you how I admire her 
And will always need to love her 
And I told you how I lost 
My best friend Mr. Neill 
And we slowly started dancing 
And began slowly to heal 
And then we all held hands
And no one was afraid 
On our way to sell our sculptures 
At the Thanksgiving Day Parade

And Michelangelo finally came down 
After four years on the ceiling 
He said he'd lost his funding
And the paint had started peeling 
And he told us that his patron
His Holiness, the Pope 
Was demanding productivity 
With which our friend just couldn't cope 
And he rode off on his skateboard 
With his brushes and his blade
Muttering something 'bout some food 
And the Thanksgiving Day Parade

And we who were born in one millennium 
And will die in the next 
Are slightly underappreciated 
And slightly oversexed 
And as the seconds and the minutes 
Start to vanish one by one
I'm watching more cartoons 
As I get my toenails done 
And we went downtown to deliver 
Turkeys to people with AIDS 
And then we headed uptown 
To the Thanksgiving Day Parade

And the music keeps on grinding 
And the electrophonic crunch 
And my father's hair is thinning
And my mom ate some for lunch 
And you, you were my babysitter 
And you let me break my tooth 
And we sit here tied together 
In a bar in the back booth 
And the band is in an uproar 
Only the drum machine's been paid 
And we'll have to bring our own tunes
To the Thanksgiving Day Parade 

Australians are the coolest 
People in the world
Let's all go down under
With strings of colored pearls 
And lay them at the feet
Of the heirs of English crime
And listen to old Men At Work 
And have a real good time 
And we dug until we hit the rocks
Then we threw away the spade
And built a platform to get a better view 
Of the Thanksgiving Day Parade

And I love whoever's next to me 
I love them so, so much 
They let me lean against them 
Like a beautiful crutch 
And everyone should come up 
On the stage and grab the mike 
And tell us one by one 
Who they are and what they like
And the babies are the only ones
To have lately gotten laid 
And I'm feeling young and eager
For the Thanksgiving Day Parade 

And you explained to me that without your fans 
You'd be back out on the street
With nothing but chitlins on your plate 
And splinters in your feet 
And if you die, you're gone you said 
And your friends are left behind 
And you'll be a statistic
And we'll be deaf and blind 
And darkness is a virtue 
And molasses is not afraid 
To slow down the countdown 
To the Thanksgiving Day Parade 

And somewhere in the distance 
An orchestra shows its face
With Natalie on the oboe 
Ty on double bass 
John plays the viola 
Slik the tenor sax 
James he blows harmonica 
In vanilla skin-tight slacks 
Hugo oozes alto sax 
Ivory the trombone 
Masuda squawks the trumpet 
Andre xylophone
Ron he shreds the violin 
In a green Italian suit 
Mike talks on the telephone
On a tape with an endless loop 
Geoff he blows the clarinet
With an old-time rockin' feel 
Charlie dings the triangle
Dave the glockenspiel 
Chris puffs on the tuba 
H a big bass drum 
Alfonso throbs the cello
Like he would a woman, with his thumb 
And high up on the podium 
In tails with his baton poised
Banksy leads the orchestra
In a glorious, awful noise 
And on a float of dripping oil paint 
The orchestra, it played
Kissing the whole universe 
In the Thanksgiving Day Parade 

And life is like a fairy tale 
Every step feels like a dream 
That keeps on getting nearer
And more and more extreme 
And we just got switched with Venus
And we're closer to the sun 
And I got no problem with it 
Nor should anyone
And the cops just blew on in here
And we're in some kind of raid
I just hope they will release us 
For the Thanksgiving Day Parade

 

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