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ghettori¢ - real forks lyrics

real forks lyrics
[verse 1]
i got real flatware forks for the whole ela crew
but if you use the motherf_ckers there’s some motherf_cking rules
there ain’t no strapped lucca bras’ with a gat to your back and some deal you can’t refuse
nor any other b_tch up in this joint suggesting you’re compelled to use
real silverware forks, stored conveniently by the sink
in a rainbow caddy amazoned at my expense after one too many drink
underneath two signs of clеar guidelines so you don’t nevеr need to think
to avoid sticking colleagues with your lunch break chores or your leftover stink
emanating from a motherf_cking fork growing fuzzier and brown–
bacteria caked in a yeasty breeding ground
i’m fair embarrassed to be forced to write this sh_t down
were we born in barns or suburbanized in town?
no teacher in dishwater ain’t never been drowned
so be a basin busy bee and don’t spray none of your sound
teacher, please, don’t tell me turn the frown upside_down;
only forestall the fungus or your name badge read
(“hi, my name is clown”)

[chorus]
the tragic commons, the drastic measures
the frantic strawmen, the manic pressure
on the hill with a cow and the here and the now
push the bass up to the edge of the elastic

[verse 2]
do that sh_t with soap – ain’t some b_tch_ass little rinse
there’s a nylon brush and some brillo pads, also procured at my expense
across the faucet from the dawn, so only if you’re dense
will you grad to that stradlater snark
(“no, really, you’re a real prince”)
if you don’t use a dishtowel you’s a visigothic bum
without full follow_through clean silverware don’t mean sh_t to me, son
don’t be throwing wet motherf_cking forks in a caddy of dry ones
yo! word to the ignorant: the dishtowel ain’t for your motherf_cking crumbs!
at which time the tines are toweled totally shall it be told
a flatware fork’s been flung into its queer_affirmative hold
but yo there’s still a final scene before the plot fully unfold:
hang the dishtowel wide, fan that motherf_cker so the sh_t don’t grow no mold
[interlude]
(i mean, really, what’s the use in washing the sh_t
if you’re gonna just dry it with a stank_ass towel?
should just be common sense, or at least common courtesy
but yo, people in groups. even the highly educated …)

[verse 3]
motherf_cker, i bequeathed a microwave to the ela break room:
800 watts to warm plastic pots of over_processed food
its heating speed assists greatly in ghosting teachers by high noon
but if you want to use the motherf_cker there’s some motherf_cking rules
if your beans go pop and you don’t drop mop then you just a little b_tch–
not in a s_xist sense but more unseemly and unearned privilege;
you lack the back to hack but got the sack to talk smack, sheltered by riches
so wipe the sh_t or i pipe your sh_t like the little b_tch you is
elbow grease and paper towel is really all you need
with that 409 assist if you need a little speed
but it gotta come when you done, immediately;
don’t let the sh_t sit ‘cause legumes clingy
the sh_t’ll rust to form a crust getting harder every day
but if you up against that cake i can be that rachel ray:
heat to boil an oven douche and the sh_t’ll wipe away
we shouldn’t need hazmat suits or edicts from the epa
to clean a motherf_cking microwave in motherf_cking may

[chorus]
the tragic commons, the drastic measures
the frantic strawmen, the manic pressure
on the hill with a cow and the here and the now
push the bass up to the edge of the elastic
[verse]
departmental tomes of tacit tact bee_keeping us in time
ticking metronomically to patterns, standards, and guidelines:
there ain’t no way to stay in the lane everyday, yo we all slip out of line
of all implicit ways to betray workmates, there’s only one true crime
if you’ve heard nothing in this joint to this point, teacher, please listen close to this:
the motherf_cking microwave is not for your motherf_cking fish
or your shrimp or your clam or your squid or other pescatarian dish
eat it cold and clean on a bed of leafy green and spare us your malice

[chorus]
the tragic commons, the drastic measures
the frantic strawmen, the manic pressure
on the hill with a cow and the here and the now
push the bass up to the edge of the elastic
pump the bass out to the edge of the elastic
bump the bass until the edge of the elastic
melt your face into the edge of the elastic
brain your sp_ce into the edge of the elastic

[outro]
(yo. word to the footnote: “douche” is used literally, not connotatively – as in equal parts vinegar and water… though i guess boiling makes vapor, not a jet. still, i don’t intend any negative associations, which reek of patriarchal insecurity. but i digress, anyway…
another thing, don’t be cutting in front… there’s a line and sh_t
and don’t be taking your sh_t out, stirring it, putting it back in like fifteen times
and don’t run the sh_t when the other microwave’s in use. that’ll blow the circuit
also, don’t ask how to set the sh_t to half_power. just push b_ttons ‘til you figure it out
i mean, a dozen teachers in the room . . . what the f_ck you expect to happen when you ask?
and yo, on the real, broccoli is just as bad as fish
think about it.)

- ghettori¢ lyrics

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