We're making plans... like:
Orange juice before guitar.

We're taking Advil PM
In hopes we may sleep tonight.

We're advancing on the age
Of splendor.

We're a technicolor dream coat dancing on strings.
God's the vendor.

Beethoven's not dead.
We hear him at the throat.

We sing like we were given no option
Fluttering around every note.

Then we collapse upon them
In the spirit of victory.

And we light a cigar
Or a cigarette.
King me.