Fiction, comedy, music, pop-culture musings, and other awesome nonsense from a disembodied head floating in the ether...
Monday, January 21, 2019
The Love Song of Greta Van Fleet
The seventies, baby, were a very cool time
People had no fashion sense, but they knew how to rhyme
How do you like my shoes, babe, and my greasy long hair?
How do like my Frodo voice, and my thousand yard stare?
We're Greta Van Fleet yeah, not Greta Van Susteren
Try to rhyme another word with Greta Van Susteren
We got the moves, mama, yeah we got the golden flair
I'm wearing open-toed shoe like I don't even care
Back in the seventies, babe, there was no Youtube
If you wanted to watch music, babe, you'd see on the boob tube
Everybody smoked weed but it was somehow okay
Yet you still had to hide it if you were not straight but gay
We're Greta Van Fleet yeah, not Greta Van Susteren
Try to rhyme another word with Greta Van Susteren
We got the moves, mama, yeah we got the golden flair
I'm wearing open-toed shoe like I don't even care
It's not derivative, babe, if you haven't heard it in years
No one plays rock 'n' roll, babe, so swallow those fears
Just put away your Iphone and listen to me screech
It's gotta be better than pop's lame-ass beats
We're Greta Van Fleet yeah, not Greta Van Susteren
Try to rhyme another word with Greta Van Susteren
We got the moves, mama, yeah we got the golden flair
I'm wearing open-toed shoe like I don't even care
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