Yep! She’s a hero from an anime or something:
clockwork parasol, laser pistol, rump swing,
bumping a light blue tint to the lips.
And most the fanboys ought to put on their bibs
or else cease/desist all of this dumbstruckery.
She isn’t interested in a conversation with you (luckily),
just posing for picture plates
and just adjusting the corset lace.
Now get ready for her, she’ll stroll by.
Blew a kiss at you once and you’re still so high.
So try to keep it steady with the picture phone
and if she drops her handkerchief, you leave it alone.
I just need you to watch, I just need you to watch
I just need you to watch me do something
So! In the shadow is a shadowy figure.
Katana and an M16, plus a big pure
grin underneath camo ninja mask.
If he interrogates you, might begin to ask
who had the bomb last. Mission time: limited!
He’s not the only super agent, just the only one who gives a shit.
And this is a stealth level, clearly.
That’s why maneuvers: all sides security
cams and guards, laser tripwires, pressure plates.
Man, that’s hard, but he won’t capitulate.
Don’t gesticulate! He’s concealed
for the benefit of onlookers. Keep eyes peeled.
In your heart you’d urge them pursue no less
than life, liberty, and the fursuit of happiness.
But when you see them in the seating at the panel,
you wonder why half elephant, half cocker spaniel.
Why the feather boa on a cat? Macabre.
Where’s it at — there’s got to be a catalog.
But they craft their hides in the home then wear them out.
And they’ll tell you what the lifestyle’s about.
With the purrs and growls, and the scent of upholstery.
Even though they’re all on display, I think mostly
these ones found invisibility spell.
Can’t see who they really are at all. Oh well.
Nope. The big arm cannon isn’t in good taste.
Neither is the steampunk nudist in a cape.
That one’s a badger disguised as Robin Hood.
Think your fashion criticism is in service of the common good?
Check the short-sleeve button-up, tie.
At your booth all surrounded with some things to buy,
you’re a headlamp wearer and an underlip beardo.
Is that costume ‘rapper?’ Kind of look like a weirdo.
Victorian Space Prostitute Lyrics performed by MC Frontalot are property and copyright of the authors, artists and labels. You should note that Victorian Space Prostitute Lyrics performed by MC Frontalot is only provided for educational purposes only and if you like the song you should buy the CD