Tell Your Children (to drop the needle) - An Original Song by Pantokrator Productions

Tell Your Children (to Drop the Needle)

Gather ‘round, clean-cut kids in white
Pull your chairs in real, real tight
There’s a menace lurkin’ in the jazz-filled dark
One puff away from a moral spark
It starts with a laugh, ends with crime
According to this filmstrip from ‘39
Mother cries, preacher sweats
One drag turns you into a threat
Reefer madness Sweet Mary Jane
One hit got me tappin’ my foot insane
They said I’d snap, they said I’d fall
But I just ate the couch and the wall
Reefer madness Hide the youth
Roll the credits, light the truth
If this is hell, then strike me blind
‘Cause paranoia’s got a real good high
Jimmy took a toke, now Jimmy’s wild
Played some jazz, scandalized a child
Sally danced like the devil’s bride
One puff later, homicide
Cue the judge with the righteous scowl
As the band plays swing at a funeral howl
Black-and-white fear, celluloid sin
Smoke goes out, but the joke rolls in
Reefer madness
Lost my soul to a gram of grass
They said I’d rob, they said I’d steal
But I just forgot how the clocks feel
Reefer madness! Sound the alarm
Six-string doom and a hempen charm
If this is wrong, I don’t wanna be right
Pass the riff and dim the light
Experts agree
Experts agree on nothin’, man
One cigarette leads to ruin
Ruin’s got a killer groove, though
Smoke curls up like a question mark
Morals melt in the amplifier dark
Fuzzed-out sermon, half-time dread
Everybody’s stoned, nobody’s dead
Reefer madness End of days
Shot in fear and projected haze
They tried to scare us straight and narrow
But missed the point by a country mile
Reefer madness Roll it again
History laughs through a cloud of phlegm
If this film’s truth was meant to last
Why’s it sound better slow and blasted
So tell your children, warn your friends
About the devil’s lettuce trend
Then drop the needle, dim the lamps
And laugh it off through vintage amps