OK, now for my "band's" songs... the second one you probably would have to know Josh to fully understand, but it's probably amusing to random people, anyhow. These are circa 2000, and I was more involved with the production side of the album than anything.
(reggae parody of "Stairway To Heaven" by Led Zepplin)
by Tragically Poor
*Reggae gibberish* It's time to roll the hot dogs, mon, and make up all the slurpees. Here I go!
Dere's a lady who's sure,
All dat glitters is gold,
And she buying a 7-11.
She cook hot dogs all day,
And make donuts dey bake,
And get stuck working night shifts on weekends.
Spin the slurpee machine,
Keep dem floors squeaky clean,
Or your manager will eat your face off.
She see people she know,
Tell her, "Hey, yo job blows!
This is worse than Burger King with Higman."
YEAH DDP! FWAAAAA!
Shut de fuck up mon!
Yet she still toils on,
Mops and scrubs all day long,
For her $5.25 every hour.
Dat's it mon, dat's all she got.
I like it mon.
You just destroyed a great American anthem, man!
Eat my fuck, boy.
(parody of "Nothing Else Matters" by Metallica)
by Tragically Poor
So small, no matter how far,
Parents took away his blue car,
He's got a nifty forceps scar,
And Josh doesn't matter.
Wish he'd keep his cock away,
I don't need to see it everyday,
Someone just keep him at bay,
No Josh doesn't matter.
He had green hair for a while,
Shaved his body for a smile,
Smells like ca-ca and poopoo,
Peepee toooooooo....
Rides around in Bare's cramped up trunk,
Wishin' we was some kinda punk,
Kate seems to think that he's a big hunk,
But Josh doesn't matter!
Yeah-heah!
Aaagh!
So small, no matter how far,
Parents took away his blue caaaaa-aaarr,
He's got a nifty forceps scaaaa-aaar,
No, Josh doesn't matter.