I woke up on a Sunday morning,
rolled over in bed
I got that same flamboyant feeling running
crosshairs through my head

I look to my confidant and his
toothy grin of lead
I've got a hundred million things or more
to do before I'm dead

Gambado at the racing track
Gumbo-Limbo in the wood
Dashiki on my lover's back
and a footprint where he stood

I gave up on the tranquil recant
refuse to be a dupe
And that's why I'm here prognosticating
in this chicken coop

I'm done with all the robber barons
I'll take my dues instead
Got a hundred million things or more to do 
before I'm dead

Gambado at the racing track
Gumbo-Limbo in the wood
Dashiki on my lover's back
and a footprint where he stood

Got a jar of nitroglycerine 
a cocktail a la mode
chimera on my bathroom floor
just waiting to explode

I don't need no consolation prize,
just like he would have said,
I've got a hundred million things or more
to do before I'm dead