Town Meeting Song by The Polyphonic Spree Lyrics
This time (this time)
There were objects so peculiar
They were not to be funny
All around, things that tantalize my brain, my brain
It's a world (world) not like anything I've ever seen
And as hard as I try
I can't seem to describe
Like a most improbable dream, improbable dream
Well, you must believe when I tell you this
It's as real as my skull and it does exist
Here, let me show you this thing
It's called a present
And the whole thing starts with a box
A box?
Is it still?
Are there locks?
Is it filled with a pox?
A pox, how delightful
A pox
If you please
Just a box
With white colored paper
And the whole thing's topped with a bow
Bow
Bow?
But why?
How ugly
What's in it?
What's in it?
That's the point of the thing: not to know
It's a bat
Will it bend?
It's a rat
Will it break?
Perhaps it's the hair that I found in the lake
Listen now, you don't understand
That's not the point of Christmas Land
Now, pay attention
We pick up an oversize sock and hang it like this on the wall
Oh yes, does it still have a foot?
Let me see, let me look
Is it rotted and covered with gook?
Hmm, let me explain
There's no foot inside, but there's candy
Or sometimes it's filled with small toys
Small toys
Do they bite?
Do they snap or explode in a sack?
Or perhaps they just spring out and scare girls and boys
What a splendid idea
This Christmas sounds fun
Why, I fully endorse it
Let's try it at once
Everyone, please, not so fast
There's something here that you don't quite grasp
Well, I may as well give 'em what they want
And the best, I must confess, I have saved for the last
For the ruler of this Christmas Land is a fearsome king
With a deep mighty voice
At least, that's what I've come to understand
And I've also heard it told
That he's something to behold
And like a lobster huge and red
And sets out to slay
With his reindeer on carting bulging sacks
With his big, great arms
And on a dark, cold night
Under full moon light he flies into a fog
Like a vulture in the sky
And they call him Sandy Claws
Well at least they're excited
Though they don't understand
That special kind of feeling
In Christmas land
Oh well
Oh well
There were objects so peculiar
They were not to be funny
All around, things that tantalize my brain, my brain
It's a world (world) not like anything I've ever seen
And as hard as I try
I can't seem to describe
Like a most improbable dream, improbable dream
Well, you must believe when I tell you this
It's as real as my skull and it does exist
Here, let me show you this thing
It's called a present
And the whole thing starts with a box
A box?
Is it still?
Are there locks?
Is it filled with a pox?
A pox, how delightful
A pox
If you please
Just a box
With white colored paper
And the whole thing's topped with a bow
Bow
Bow?
But why?
How ugly
What's in it?
What's in it?
That's the point of the thing: not to know
It's a bat
Will it bend?
It's a rat
Will it break?
Perhaps it's the hair that I found in the lake
Listen now, you don't understand
That's not the point of Christmas Land
Now, pay attention
We pick up an oversize sock and hang it like this on the wall
Oh yes, does it still have a foot?
Let me see, let me look
Is it rotted and covered with gook?
Hmm, let me explain
There's no foot inside, but there's candy
Or sometimes it's filled with small toys
Small toys
Do they bite?
Do they snap or explode in a sack?
Or perhaps they just spring out and scare girls and boys
What a splendid idea
This Christmas sounds fun
Why, I fully endorse it
Let's try it at once
Everyone, please, not so fast
There's something here that you don't quite grasp
Well, I may as well give 'em what they want
And the best, I must confess, I have saved for the last
For the ruler of this Christmas Land is a fearsome king
With a deep mighty voice
At least, that's what I've come to understand
And I've also heard it told
That he's something to behold
And like a lobster huge and red
And sets out to slay
With his reindeer on carting bulging sacks
With his big, great arms
And on a dark, cold night
Under full moon light he flies into a fog
Like a vulture in the sky
And they call him Sandy Claws
Well at least they're excited
Though they don't understand
That special kind of feeling
In Christmas land
Oh well
Oh well