"Microwaved Potatoes" is a twofer - my latest statement on life in Trump's "Golden Age" AND a (hopefully humorous) answer to every grocery store check-out person asking how I'm doing in it. It's also a Little White Radio track, so another number where I'm "playing all of our records all at once,” mixing Rock and Bluegrass with Synth Pop, Rap, and EDM (Electronic Dance Music) all over a pseudo-Philly Sound - while sampling everything in sight. It's a lot of heavy-lifting. (Headphones are highly recommended). If you like it, consider a donation to PayPal, because the wolves are out there and those samples are NOT gonna clear themselves. Here are the lyrics:
Burning biscuits is so delicious, with
sour milk in the early morn
Pork that’s turned is as good as something burnt
Food poisoning almost as good as porn
Horse radish done destroyed my salad
I found a roach somewhere on my ear of corn
An expiration date don’t mean that something’s late
It indicates don’t take it back to the store
I live on microwaved potatoes
A can of tomatoes sit on the table
Ain’t found a recipe to use them for
I got a burnt-up pan: set fire to water, again
Smoke’s everywhere, better open the door
Produce rotten, vegetables been forgotten
I got shit in the fridge that’s growing spores
Lotsa fast food boxes - yeah, I said ‘lotsa’
The ants, alone, are too much to ignore
I live on microwaved potatoes
