I Shit Your Pants Lyrics

Lysergic hits that make you have to take a shit.
A quack chemist, we'll call him Dr. Corprophagia.
On a quest for Enlightenment, with a fetish for excrement.
The latest batch is finally cooked: he calls this blotter "farter."

The next step is some subjects to test:
A filthy group of hippies who are acid-obsessed.
Burning man will do.
They all smell like shit to begin with.

The experiment is flawless,
No one will catch on.
The day the drum circle went wrong.

Blowing your mind, tripping face on a tasty jam.
While you soil those secondhand, ludicrous patchwork pants.
A sea of dreadlocks and shit-stained Birkenstock's.

Crystal selling, glass blowing, live-art, dope smoking, tar-toking, business hippies' ass exploding.

A half hour in the cramps will begin, battling farts, a war being waged that you will not win.
Was it the mushrooms made into tea? Was it the blow? Was it the E? I am the doctor, y'all know me!

I just shit your pants!

The desert sun ripens rot in a hazmat nightmare.
Flower power needs a shower hour.
Incoherent lunatics covered in waste.

At last the climax...
A wooden idol towering 10 stories high,
Ready to be set ablaze.

Bring out the butane.
No one considered the amount of the methane.