Making tapes, gnashing my teeth, plucking string on my guitar
Summer sun and I'm fooling everyone
Playing instruments when I can't play them
I use my teeth like a hi-hat, I'm a DJ with my tongue
There's a drum-set on my lips, which, bending the tape
I make sound fake, like I'm playing bass when I don't have one
Record without plans
Record without plans
And the ice cream truck passes by
Hearing birds sing
Recording everything
Electricity in the summer
Tons of blank tapes and a copy machine
There's a record label in my closet
Made a bunch of tapes and passed them around
And asked other people to be on them
Everybody's got a tape and mostly they're great
And I've never heard anything better
Made a bunch of tapes