big foot oh big foot on your skinny wheels
have you turned french?
what the (rhymes with luck)?
what’s the deal?
is it something big bad juancho said?
was it from getting ‘served’ so often?
or from falling on your head?
why oh why
have you left the woods behind?
ooh the “shoosh” of the sand
lo the smell of the pines
the guys who always ‘waited miss you so much
and we all swear sasquatch baby
you almost found the touch
on the road – i suppose i should say
as kerouac opined back in the day
he spoke of space – opening and wide
he cried out for freedom
as the pavement slid by
but time has passed, sasquatch – the world’s in the bin
clearly, the only space left is –
where the sidewalk ends
so prance on the blacktop till your skin fries off
play in the traffic ’til the smog makes you cough
salivate like a starving dog for the paris-roubaix
glue yourself to OLN and le tour
for july’s month of sundays
for we know you’ll be back big foot our old friend
because you are one of us – good god – you’re like kin
we all know its just a glitch in your spiritual software
a reaction to politics – or to andrew loyd webber’s remake of Hair
the lycra don’t suit you, the roadie’s are all dicks
you’re getting sucked in and its making us sick
we won’t ask you to come back – cause we still are your friends
but please tell us dear sasquatch
WHEN WILL THE BULLSHIT END?
by Scotty B.
edits by Juancho