banana banana banana banana banana banana banana banana banana banana banana banana banana banana banana banana banana banana banana banana banana banana banana banana banana banana banana

note: this song(version) isn't remotely anti-th or anti-banana-man.
it's essentially a needlessly overdramatic argument between myself and a past version of myself, as well as between myself and people who refuse to acknowledge that things can be good but have problems. banana man is a good song. it has problems.

banana banana banana banana banana banana banana banana banana banana banana banana banana banana banana banana banana banana banana banana banana banana banana banana banana banana banana
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LYRICS:
- new, original lyrics indicated by [] square brackets-
- concurrent lyrics indicated by () parentheses -

Ladies and gentlemen, Colonel P.T Chester Whitmore is proud to present:
Bung Vulchungo and the Zimbabwe Songbirds.

Do you see Banana Man?
hopping over on the white hot sand.
Here he comes with some for me,
[this manifestation of our apathy.]
(One, two, three, four.)
Banana Man, we want a ton.
Give us double and a bonus one.
Give me more for all my friends.
This banana flow will never end.

Do you want a banana?
Peel it down and go mm mm, mm, mmmm.
Do you want a banana?
This banana's for you.

[You're the cattle, I'm the free.
It's about whatever you want it to be.
And if you dare to disagree,
surely you're the one resembling sheep.
That which is funny can't be wrong.
It can't be racist if I like the song.
Silly, stupid, quirky, bright.
All these attributes mean that I'm right.]

Do you want a banana?
[Choke it down and go mm mm, mm, mmmm.]
Do you want a banana?
This banana for you.


[He says]
"look you, you're too uptight you know.
You could laugh and kick it back and go (weeee!)
but without a rhythm or a rhyme,
you do not banana all the time.
Fly away from city on the run.
Try to make a little fun."

[So I say
"what's this, f**king 1959?
With the painted face and googly eyes?
And the accent of the Caribbean?
And the imitation simian?
Weren't you born and raised in Michigan?
This banana's gotta stop."]


[Forget all your morals and go with the flow.
Forget about the bad, the good is all you know.
And forget about the voice that's lying deep inside,
the one that's screaming and screeching proclaiming wrong and right.]

And then forget about banana when it's stuck in your throat,
and when it makes you wanna bellow but you're stuck in a choke.
And then forget about the yellow from the beckoning man,
who makes you take another one and make a mock of your plan.

Bungale, bungalo.
[Conscience begone in catchy notes.]
Ummmmmmmmmmmm.
Shhhhhhh...


[Well it's 3am and I'm online again,
arguing with someone I don't know.
I shouldn't feel so strongly but I can't let this go.]


[The moral of this story is, it's]
(Tomorrow morning, on the plane.)
[perfectly fine to wear rose-tinted lenses,]
(No banana make you go insane.)
[but don't neglect your other senses,]
(Floating back to busy town.)
[lest you finally face the consequences.]
(No banana make you want to frown.)

Do you want a banana?
Peel it down and go mm mm, mm, mmmm.
Do you want a banana?
This banana's for...
...you.

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