Furra, furra

Furra, furra, fandango,
this is your fandango
that we like.

This morning I woke up
feeling lucky,
I found a tank
in my coffee;
I don’t know what we’ve got
peace or war
but I’ll be damned
I made a mess.

If I’m gonna do something
I’ll do it right and clean,
I scrubbed a stain
with a water gun,
now I’m lost
filled with fear
left without a clue
I’m stuck here.

My only weapon
is the accordion,
with a breath of air
it sounds like a lion;
if it bites my hand
let it be,
Cervantes had
something like this happen.

And now I’m off
back to bed,
if they don’t come for me
I’ll just chill;
tomorrow we’ll see
what news comes,
even the wise
can’t predict.