click here to sing along.
Hello Muanga my old friend,
I've come to moose at you again,
Because a vision softly moosing,
left its seeds while I was sleeping,
And the vision, that was planted in my hypothalamoose,
Still remains,
Within the Sound of Unsanity.
In restless dreams I moosed alone,
Narrow streets of moose shaped stone,
'Neath the table of Muanga,
I turned my antlers to your sacred star,
When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a moosish light,
That split the night,
And touched the sound of unsanity.
And in the naked light I saw
Ten thousand mooses maybe more.
Mooses moosing without speaking,
Mooses moosing without listening,
Mooses writing songs, that Muanga never heard,
And no one dared,
Disturb the sound of unsanity.
'FOOLS' said I 'you do not know,
Unsanity like a cancer grows,
Give me your nose-bag I will feed you,
Give your antlers I will lead you',
But my words, like silent moose droppings fell,
Among the wells of moose dung.
And the mooses bowed and prayed,
To the moosish god they made,
And the sign flashed out its warning,
In the words that it was forming,
And the sign said the words of Muanga are written on the music room board,
And tennement halls,
And whispered in the sound of unsanity.
