Hey Joel, Where You Going with That?
Tim Presley, Ty Segall
Cut down see saw
Needs some new glare
Take me to every one's there
If I could write you a love poem, I would
But the pope street poked me again
So please leave me here
So I can try
To blow my baby's mind
In the years of panic
With the fears of herbage
I've had it
Please blow your horn
Yellow sandwich submarine
Makes me cry like a fly
With a weasy spoon
So sleep on the kitchen
Hey Joel, where you going with that?
Where you going, where you going?
Oh, with that
But the pope street poked me again
Poked me again
Pope street poked me again
Oh, poked me again
Rock is dead, rock is dead
Rock is dead, rock is dead
Rock is dead, rock is dead
Rock is dead, rock is dead
Rock is dead, rock is dead
Rock is dead, rock is dead
Rock is dead, rock is dead
Rock is dead, rock is dead