The Rest Is Yet to Come

Make me something

Put it on the marquee
A leprechaun dancing
Whatever strikes yer fancy

Then we'll throw it in the fire pit
Then we'll sit next to it
It's our trophy with a phobia

Or is it good will haunting?
And you said ‘The rest is yet to come’

I said ‘Don't you mean the best?’
You said ‘We're making a huge mess’
Won't lay down
Won't confess
All burnt out and won't succumb
Ah but the rest has yet to come

Make me something

Put it in the backseat
Then drive me crazy
Then call it ‘new wave-y?’

So futuristically out of date
But if it takes time it's never late
Fire all the hired guns
I know I'm not the only one
The rest has yet to come