Sort of!
Not really!
Here at the Tupperware Twang Factory:
Waylon and Williams pics hang crooked
Mary & Carrie tributes sit by the basement
They're kept for appearances, not inspiration
Tight butts, media bodies, and paste faces,
We didn't bring you here for originality
You're here to further perfect a market
That makes us all worthless yet wealthy
Time for you to stand like deer in headlight lineups,
To get yerself a gait without gumption or giddyup
Tupperware Twang, Tupperware Twang
Here's a gun and there's a gun
But not a one ever goes Bang!
Don't worry about your testes or ovaries
They'll be kept with your guts at the Factory
Just open wide after the assembly line
With fixing all finished it's time for feeding
Our songwriters have saccharine by the sack
Don't Wynonna if your voices aren't perfect
Our studios can manipulate them like music
That leaps onto faces as layers of confect
If songs sound like gumball machines keep puking,
Console yerselves with cameos of banjo or fiddling
Tupperware Twang, Tupperware Twang
Here's a gun and there's a gun
But not a one ever goes Bang!
(not a one, not a one); (ever goes Bang!)
Tupperware Twang, Tupperware Twang
No need to start making art
When you're fashioning gold chains
Don't none of you go imagining
Your own topics, music, or lyrics
Just imagine dwindling countryside
That remembers your former spirits
And don't none of you go get
Chirping like some Dixie Chicks
Who hear about American freedom
And actually try to actualize it
Real stars and real Americans know
Real freedom comes from kissing ass
When politicians drop their drawers,
Your lips better salute such flags
True patriots know this nation
Was founded by those who bowed
Before a worldwide empire until
Their brains and hearts fell out
Tupperware Twang, Tupperware Twang
Here's a gun and there's a gun
But not a one ever goes Bang!
Not a one will ever go Bang!
But those same guns always
Pop out little white flags
Factory mice in machinery traps,
May all your dreams be free
Of any cat dressed in black
Who rises from a record stack
And shoots your compact disc
Just to watch it snap in half!
Yee-haw! Sort of! Not really! Here at the Tupperware Twang Factory: Waylon and Williams pics hang crooked Mary & Carrie tributes sit by the basement They're kept for appearances, not inspiration Tight butts, media bodies, and paste faces, We didn't bring you here for originality You're here to further perfect a market That makes us all worthless yet wealthy Time for you to stand like deer in headlight lineups, To get yerself a gait without gumption or giddyup Tupperware Twang, Tupperware Twang Here's a gun and there's a gun But not a one ever goes Bang! Don't worry about your testes or ovaries They'll be kept with your guts at the Factory Just open wide after the assembly line With fixing all finished it's time for feeding Our songwriters have saccharine by the sack Don't Wynonna if your voices aren't perfect Our studios can manipulate them like music That leaps onto faces as layers of confect If songs sound like gumball machines keep puking, Console yerselves with cameos of banjo or fiddling Tupperware Twang, Tupperware Twang Here's a gun and there's a gun But not a one ever goes Bang! (not a one, not a one); (ever goes Bang!) Tupperware Twang, Tupperware Twang No need to start making art When you're fashioning gold chains Don't none of you go imagining Your own topics, music, or lyrics Just imagine dwindling countryside That remembers your former spirits And don't none of you go get Chirping like some Dixie Chicks Who hear about American freedom And actually try to actualize it Real stars and real Americans know Real freedom comes from kissing ass When politicians drop their drawers, Your lips better salute such flags True patriots know this nation Was founded by those who bowed Before a worldwide empire until Their brains and hearts fell out Tupperware Twang, Tupperware Twang Here's a gun and there's a gun But not a one ever goes Bang! Not a one will ever go Bang! But those same guns always Pop out little white flags Factory mice in machinery traps, May all your dreams be free Of any cat dressed in black Who rises from a record stack And shoots your compact disc Just to watch it snap in half! Explain Request ×
Lyrics taken from
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