However Witless They Should Be

Smooth operators, gold elevators Two dozen waiters and wine from Bordeaux Master creators meet with incubators A frank mediator to connect the dots You're still not doing mother nature's chores Investigators turned to the translators to seek infiltrators and traitors alike Old oscillators and shot radiators erode in a crater of refuse and mud You're still not doing mother nature's chores Long ago, not from here actually... There were flightless birds who spoke in thirty-threes And they only drank blood from the blood orange trees There were European, churro-eating tangerine bees Who had never seen the ocean nor had felt the ocean breeze A lonesome curator had plans to be greater So he climbed on a freighter and rode it to Maine Crooked crusaders, unholy invaders and fascist dictators have blighted with time You're still not doing mother nature's chores A lonesome rhymer handed you the book (smooth operators) A life of silence should you have a look (master creators) And although you are not tied up anymore (investigators) You're still not doing mother nature's chores (old oscillators) However witless they should be (you're still not doing mother nature's chores) And there's no better way to describe this (a lonesome curator) Other than insolent (crooked crusaders)