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Lyrics
in plumgum,
yes I am stuck in plumgum,
flip switches with my thumb,
'cause I'm grooving in plumgum,
oh yeah I'm
I'm in the hall,
Pulling carpet off the floor,
gouging the wall some more,
And I think I'll take the door.
So now you
know why I
like the pan more than the pie,
because the pan is grand,
but it's true the pie is sly.
You see I'm
in plumgum,
looking at a blob of glue,
but chips of pine wood too,
as I tap my home-made drum.
I'm really
sticking now,
gum is sticking to my shoes,
A new pair I could use,
but I really don't see how.
I'd like to
get away,
but the plumgum makes me stay,
still I don't mind too much;
everyone's here anyway.
Wind blows through a metal
tube and the microphone
shakes when I treat a tin
pan like a punching bag
but if you try to take something
from the box of stuff
it all falls to the
ground, and it ruins the
sound I'm trying to muff.
Louder and louder it
gets, and the plumgum grows
thicker and more sticky
try not to step in it
or you will start to talk rambling
on and on until
you run all out of
words so there's nothing to
say, except this one last thing
in plumgum
I say
Twisting knobs with
my thumb.
Noise is the key, but
where is the door, where is the door?
I have the door,
just as I said before, you just were
ignoring the dashboard for the road,
so listen now.
I have the door,
and I am filling up the box.
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