© PETER ANDERSSON
A MUSIC PARODY
"THESE HILLS HAVE EYES"
BY: THE MORNING AFTER
"Dear Santa, all I want for Christmas is your list with names of naughty girls."
On my caboose, on the net I find the deals
I shop around, I take the flying bill
If shipped by drone, if sent a-flying to my home
Wallet's out, into mo' debt I'm thrown
And I order thai, clothes and mailorder by sky
But the more I buy from over the border
The FDA's in nervous disorder
I shop from home, call drones up on a spree
Packets for delivery, firms drop on top of me
I sit at home, them drones are worker bees
They're filling up the sky for a small fee
(The mailman's hating me)
I wanna buy everything that looks a deal
I make a carbon sasquatch footprint, a gargaaaantuan one
When says "we'll fly it"
I always just click "buy it"
I can't pay up, my commonsense's been floored and it's out
I shop online, a drone world addressee
Pizza for delivery, with everything - oh gee!
I bought a farm, had piggies flown to me
They fertilized the neighbourhood for free
(The neighbours all hate me)
(BUZZING DRONES AND GUITAR SOLO)
I shop, they drop, but boost economy
Russian bride deliveries have ten Viagras free
I sit at home, as lazy as can be
I'm googling for a drone that can wipe me
As we embrace this new technology
Santa's going obsolete, by TSA decree
Poor Donner's gone and Vixen's ground to beef
(We socked 'em you and me)
This Yule will be the last one Rudolph sees
(The drones are coming)
(They are coming)
(Soon they'll come for thee!)
© Peter Andersson 2014