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  • Текст песни Garfunkel and Oates - Handjob, Blandjob, I Don't Understand Job

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    Тут находится текст песни Garfunkel and Oates - Handjob, Blandjob, I Don't Understand Job, а также перевод, видео и клип.

    I got a problem and I can't contain it
    I'll use my icky sticky rhymes to help explain it
    Handy Js are like Stonehenge to me
    Robert Stack can't even help me unsolve this mystery

    I'm the messed up child of a baby boomer
    I was in the gifted class but a total late bloomer
    Now I got a secret to get off my chest
    Went from kissing to sex but never learned the rest

    In high school, I was in the marching band
    Not learning what to do with my hand
    While other girls were dripping like a Jackson Pollock
    I blossomed later than Mayim Bialik

    I'm investigating bones like Deschanel
    Trying to make it stand up like Dave Chapelle
    When I stare down the barrel of a semi-hard dick
    I feel more singled out than Chris Hardwick

    I studied Bach, Jacques Chirac, and Isaac Asimov
    But I wasn't on the ski bus jerking people off
    Wouldn't let you touch my chest like you're Vapo rubbing Vicks in
    Let alone deep throat your Tricky Dick Nixon

    I wanna learn how to make your Watergates flow
    I'm resigned like Spiro Agnew that I might never know
    How to HJ your LB Johnson
    Know less about dicks than Samantha Ronson

    I should have explored New Frontiers like Wil Wheaton
    But I was more conservative than Alex P. Keaton
    I've fallen into crisis just like the Dow
    I wanna give a handjob but I don't know how

    Hand job, Bland job
    I-Don't-Understand job
    Do I spit, do I squeeze, do I ever touch the top?
    How can I learn when you always make me stop?

    Now I'm on a full-blown investigation
    To unlock the secrets of ejaculation
    I need a translator like I'm reading Balzac
    To crack the Rosetta Stone over your ball sack

    The top is the part that confuses me the most
    It looks like a Silly Putty Pac Man ghost
    Sometimes it's jello jiggling, sometimes it's denser
    But they all look like a Darth Vader Pez dispenser

    Like Sam Jackson, I'm not as good with Shaft
    When it's soft and flabby like President Taft
    It's like a deep south queen that you wanna make straight
    Will I make it upright if I move it like a Shake Weight?

    Move it like a Shake Weight
    Move it like a Shake Weight

    I'm pumping like breaks that aren't anti-lock
    Trying not to go psycho on your Alfred Hitchcock
    I go a little faster and then I retard
    It's like a hamster that you don't wanna squeeze too hard

    I'm working my hand 'til it gets arthritis
    I'll be holdin' 'til I get the Golden Touch of Midas
    "I think, therefore I am"; getting my Descartes on
    'Til I fully comprehend your Marcia Gay Hard-on

    But the biggest, throbbing question all's
    Seriously, what do you do with the balls?
    Do I roll 'em like dice, do I mold them like clay
    Do I tickle them like Elmo, or throw 'em like a partay?

    Do I move 'em all around or cup it slow?
    It's like the two bald critic puppets from the Muppet show
    Just sitting there cranky and superfluous
    How 'bout I don't touch them unless you insist?

    Hand job, Bland job
    I-Don't-Understand job
    Do I spit, do I squeeze, do I ever touch the top?
    How can I learn when you always make me stop?
    How can I learn when you always make me stop?

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