
The Prima Grin Conspiracy (ILU)
[Intro – Spoken, with doo-wop backing vocals fading in like a bad acid flashback] Hey, dig it: You ever notice how the news anchors got that smile stretched wider than a used car salesman's alibi? It's not joy, man—it's jurisdiction. The Perma Grin. It's comin' for ya. Brush your teeth... or else. [Verse 1 – Funky bass line slaps in, guitar squeals like a cat in a microwave] Down in the fluoride mines of Burbank, where the cavities go to die, They brew up a potion in the basement, under the Colonel's beady eye. It's the Illuminati and the Scientologists, mixin' up a batch so fine— A little Prozac, a dash of Novocain, and a whisper from the Vatican line. They pipe it through the water mains, right into your morning joe, Next thing you know, you're grinnin' like a pig in a polka-dot bow. The PTA moms are leadin' the charge, with their minivans full of glee, But peek behind the picket fence—it's teeth marks on democracy! [Chorus – Full band kicks in, horns blare like escaped zoo elephants, crowd chants along] Perma Grin! (Oh yeah!) Lockjaw liberation! Perma Grin! (Smile wide!) Corporate salvation! From the boardroom to the bedroom, it's a nationwide fixation, Fake it till you make it— or the black helicopters come for visitation! Grin it, win it, spin it like a top, The Perma Grin Conspiracy— it never stops! [Verse 2 – Tempo shifts to a lurching waltz, as if the band's tripping over untied shoelaces] Now the lizard people in their suits of plaid are hostin' the annual ball, At the Beverly Hills Hyatt, where the mirrors reflect nothin' at all. They've got the Folding Stones on retainer, Nick's lips are sewn on tight, And Elli John's got a keyboard made of molars— plays "Crocodile Rock" all night. The FDA's in on the fix, stampin' approval on jars of "Eternal Cheer," While the hippies in Haight-Ashbury are smilin' through their tie-dye fear. It's a plot thicker than grandma's gravy, from sea to polluted sea, They want your choppers chompin' on the dream— wide open, wild, and free! [Bridge – Sudden silence, then a solo from a kazoo orchestra, building to a scream-along rant] But wait— what's that twitch in the corner of your eye? That rebel frown fightin' back, sayin' "No more apple pie!" The underground's brewin' a counter-serum in a bathtub gin still, With moonshine and mustard gas, gonna shatter the thrill. Scream it loud, you dental desperadoes: "Down with the dazzle! Up with the grimace!" We're the Frown Patrol, crashin' the gala— gonna wipe that grin right off your face! [Chorus – Reprise, double-time frenzy, like a polka on amphetamines] Perma Grin! (Oh no!) Lockjaw liberation? Perma Grin! (Not me!) Corporate damnation! From the boardroom to the booby trap, it's a nationwide sedation, Fake it till you break it— or the truth serum's your invitation! Grin it, sin it, bin it in the shade, The Perma Grin Conspiracy— better make it stop! [Outro – Fades into chaotic free jazz, ending with a flush and a sinister chuckle] (Whispered ad-lib: "And if you think this is funny... just wait till they come for your wisdom teeth.")

