MBStudio keyb and computer programming, Magilla guitars synth, Trapparappa bass drum computer programming, Baboo voice and choir, Trooper synth brass voice and incredible machine 


I drive an old DeSoto
And I drive it real slow-ly
Past a pack of people
Who all turn... to smile


They hear the music playin'
From my old DeSoto
I drive a DeSoto, old man
And the peo-ple love me


The sus-pen-sion, it's a-swayin'
Like a ship up-on the ocean
The uphol-st'ry's all faded
But the mo-quette's still fine


They hear that radio glowin'
Through the rust holes in the quarter panel
I drive a DeSoto, old man
And the peo-ple love me




It ain't 'bout bein' fast, son
It ain't 'bout bein' flashy, no
It's 'bout the sound you're bringin'
And the joy you're passin' by...



Yeah, they HEAR the music playin'!
From my OLD DeSoto!
I DRIVE a DeSoto, old man!
And the PEO-PLE LOVE ME!


Yeah... just rollin' on... they love me...

Old Man DeSoto

Walkin’ down Main, just feelin’ the breeze
My rhythm’s tight but my step ain’t free
Every time I move, they swing like trees
Lord help these low-hangin’ anomalies

Caught again on the subway rail
Crowd stares down, I can’t exhale

Trippin’ on balls, yeah, every day
Can’t walk straight, they get in the way
Tried to tuck ‘em up, they just won’t stay
Life’s a drag when your orbs wanna play

Dropped my keys, bent down too rash
Felt the tug, then a thunderous crash
Tangled once in a grocery sash
Fruits flew high, my pride took the smash

Doctor said “man, just wear a sling”
But gravity’s a cruel, round thing

Trippin’ on balls, in the parking lot
Boss lookin’ down like “what you got?”
HR said “that’s an awful thought”
But nature built this faulty plot

Went to church, tried to kneel in prayer
But the Lord looked down, said “bro, beware”
The choir gasped, I felt the air
Swingin’ low like a blessed snare

Father said “son, that’s quite obscene”
But faith can’t lift what’s physiologene

Trippin’ on balls, at the county fair
Rode the tilt-a-whirl, lost ‘em mid-air
Kids screamed out, folks stopped to stare
I just waved like “yeah, they’re still there”

Every step’s a gamble, swing or fall
Hallway echoes, bouncin’ call
You think you’re tough, you think you’re tall
But you ain’t tripped till you’ve tripped on balls

Can’t run fast, can’t climb no wall
But I sure can roll down the mall

Trippin’ on balls, that’s my fate
Never early, always late
Every date turns into debate
When I show up draggin’ that weight

Gotta Learn How to Dance

Fatback Band

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