Michael James Wheeler

Lyrics

I’m no Rust Belt Man
Just talk to my friends
Yes sir, it’s three bags full to my home from here

And I got no plan,
‘Cause I been drinking, man—
Stalled out in the amber waves
While the Tin Man cheers

Just might be that Disco Boy
On your street parade
Just might be that friendly noise
Of the fools you hate

Go and rest your words
Bring the keys to the city nerds
They’re twisting the puppet strings, man
This ain’t sorcery

And we’ll paint the bricks
Something bright and slick
You gotta freak ‘em out
To freak ‘em in
To forgery

Just might be that Disco Boy
On your street parade
Just might be that friendly noise
Of the fools you hate

Side-steppers creepin’ deep into the night
Of the elite lasers pointing out the world’s blindness
And a demagogue polished in a wheat nest
Foolin’ no one but the fools he fools best
Rulin’ by the stop sign red as a seasick sailor
Hiding all that glitters in the ozone layer

Just might be that Disco Boy
On your street parade
Just might be that friendly noise
Of the fools you hate