Got a little song I really gotta sing,
Listen up Little Bro, it’s about the O-Ring--
I mean the thing in the broken wing...
Of the Challenger Mission. What’s it worth? Who’s to blame?
Were they wondering the same when that flame came down to Earth?
I don’t really know, but whatever Little Bro,
Go and make your fun, like: "O-Ring is the ring of the onion,"
While my tears flow and run from the fumes till my day is done.
I sing to the O-Ring...
The eighties was the decade of my teenage time,
Society’s wreckage damaging my mind,
Like icy Flight 90 every single day,
I’m getting cold, then numb and then I drown, hey.
And yo, Mother Hubbard, let me rest in deep rest
Cuz that’s the best way to get it through to you
That whatcha do to me, hey, I do to you.
I am teenage and righteous, and not number one,
Less than zero, and yeah, well, hey, it’s a kind of fun
To cut myself off in my windowless room,
Hide away from a world of doom
Where darkness reigns, happiness is sad,
Holidays are bad and joy is feigned.
Yeah PTA, this rap’s for you, Man,
Generation X with nothing to do,
But sing to the O-Ring...
I wanna rap to ya bout the nineteen eighties.
Heard a lot of crap about "Just say ‘no.’"
Please no more war on drugs, Jeez, man,
Ain’t enough Deadheads locked up in the can?
And who’s the hubba bubba came up with that plan?
Was it Reagan? Bush? Bennett & friends?
The US Senate? Hey, the list never ends.
Cuz yo, Baby Bro, between you & me,
The Drug War was a war on society.
Let me tell ya where’s the beef about the nineteen eighties:
Pat Sajak and crack and crack babies,
Rerun afternoons, Yuppies with coke spoons,
Conservative conspiracy to trickle down the theory
That you’re the one to blame:
For shame!...that they’re smokin motherlovers like it ain’t no thang.
Change the channel, turn it down, Honey, turn it off,
Hold it in deep and try not to cough
Cuz there ain’t much left and it’s gotta go around.
Let the Hunk o’ Junk burn till it hits the ground....
Well, the O-Ring is a thing that can make me cry
Cuz like stars are cool and the teacher died.
Tears of the onion have so many layers:
The born-again rednecks, the Feds, the nay-sayers.
But: the O’Ring cracked so get outa my face
And I’m-a take it on back to a personal place,
Like the Space inside me
Cuz the Challenger died and I didn’t, see?
Unlike Kurt Cobain who was very much the same as me
And went "EF YOU!" BOOM and blew out his brains to be free.
Was it stupid? Righteous? I don’t really know,
But whatever Little Bro, go and have your fun till your day is done
While I retire to my bed where my tears run and flow until I am...Om…Om…Om…
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