All that's missing is the music
Is this simply bad poetry, or the beginning of a schlocky Whirled Musings musical (Whirled Musical?), or just some dopey lyrics in search of a tune? You decide. But I finally sat down and turned my favorite phrase into...well...this. It pretty much wrote itself. Or maybe I channeled it. Yeah...that's it.
I’ve Gotta Find Me A Scam
lyrics by Cosmic Connie
Music by ??
I’ve gotta find me a scam
Make people think
That I’m more than I am
Give ’em a little and make ’em want more
And herd ’em in droves to my Internet store.
They’re gonna make me a star
If I make ’em believe
That they’re more than they are
Make ’em believe that the world can be theirs
And that they’re all destined to be zillionaires.
I’ll forge an online community
Make folks believe
They’ll get special immunity –
Shelter from plagues or a stock market crash –
If only they’ll give me their trust. And their cash.
I’m gonna buy me some phony degreesMaybe they’ll pay me to pray
A B.S., an M.A., two fake Ph.D.s
I’ll talk quantum physics and quote from the Buddha,
And no one will know (much less care) if I’ve screwed a
Few thousand folks on my way to success
Long as I bilk with a bit of finesse.
Or simply to chant
All their problems away
With four magic phrases, or one magic word
That rational folk would find droll or absurd.
All I’ll be selling is hope
Worth more by far
Than the best Maui dope
Granted, the high doesn’t last quite as long
And costs a lot more. But is that so wrong?
It’s what people want, after all:
Bright shiny visions
To keep them in thrall
It’s all in the packaging, all in the hype
Oh, I can make millions by marketing tripe!
I’m gonna bundle some mixed esoterica,I’ll sell a miracle pill
Pilfer some symbols from Native America,
Quote Albert Einstein, channel some dead guys,
Make up some buzzwords to make me appear wise.
Claim I’m a healer, say I’m hypnotic,
And hook ’em on hope (it’s the greatest narcotic).
And maybe concoct
A fantastical swill:
Blue solar water with pale yellow “tea”
Will magically morph into more “green” for me!
I’ll buy a grandiose house,
Ditch my old friends
And dump my old spouse,
Replace ’em with new ones befitting my lot
To prove to the world – and myself – that I’m hot.
Folks will pay four grand to suffer
Hoping one weekend
Will make them grow tougher
And happier, healthier, richer and smarter...
Then I'll convince 'em that that's just a starter.
And then for a few thousand more
I'll lead 'em, chanting,
To death's very door
If they pass through it and fail to come back
I'll turn tail and run to avoid the flak.
Yeah, I'm gonna find me a scam
Make folks believe
That I'm more than I am
Make 'em believe that I'm endlessly wise
Till I even believe my own ludicrous lies!
Note: the second-to-the-last two verses were added in November 2009, post-"Sweatgate"
Labels: Bad poetry