The First Cuss

The first cuss, it bust the rust

Right off the padlocks

Sprung the cells, as well rung the bells

On the alarm clocks

Raymond's paintings stating faking is the shits

While Minnesota's busting quotas on the blues lick

Mowing and hoeing and growing, towing the bonus weight

From tradition's mission of vision, wide as the Great Lakes

Now the formula calls for

Us to play the same part fifty times more but

Fuck it