The rockabilly emotion plays out on the section line
But the static harshes the mellow every single time
No matter the song, no matter the time
The criteria for the bullshit is undefined
Maybe the atmospheric conditions are just right
And so is the power generation at the broadcast site
Maybe God's interfering with a stretch of the mind
Trying to keep any human from having a good time
Or it could be a simple action by the natural beast
Either way, they're being robbed of the audible feast
Can't sing with John Cougar about crumbling walls
Can't sing with John Cougar about tumbling walls
Can't sing with Ringo Starr about paying dues
Can't sing with Ringo Starr about singing blues
Can't sing with The Beatles on "Let It Be"
Can't sing with The Stones on "Let It Bleed"
The classics are muted, the riffs are squelched
Through the speakers, only static is belched
On occasion, the sounds returns crystal clear
But that's not always the reality, I sadly fear
Living in the hinterland outside blowtorch range
The signal weakens, so you play the scanning game
The Mexican flamethrowers can be heard over the pole
Russian agents learned English that way, don't you know?
The miracle of broadcast causes crossing paths
And it yields a minor case of personal wrath
But, it's a simple annoyance in this time only
Because the sound of silence sounds so lonely
So men devised talk radio to openly complain
Since human life likes to live next to the drain
Being lonely in the car box is now a choice
So many channels, each one with a voice
So either drive on loudly or sleep through the static
And stop bitching like a withdrawn crack addict
If the static is annoying, just change the channel
No need necessary to appoint some kind of panel
To solve the problem, just pop in a disc
Let your mind be at ease, just get over it
The static remains, a remnant of cosmic birth
It has been demonstrated for what it's worth