FORTUNATE BUN [Intro: swamp rock count-in, dry stick clicks, twangy overdriven guitar riff, tight bass groove, driving 4/4 backbeat, raw late-60s garage mix, no polish] (One, two, one-two-three-four!) [Verse 1: gritty male vocal, clipped and cocky, overdriven twang guitar chopping between lines, dry punchy drums, handclaps tucked low in the room] Hot dog party on the Fourth of July We didn't invite you We're gonna make you cry [Chorus: short explosive protest-party hook, full band hits hard, snare cracking dry, shout-along backing vocals, bratty crowd energy] It's the fortunate bun You ain't gonna have none You want a bite of my dog Ain't gonna have none It's the fortunate bun You ain't gonna have none You want a bite of my dog Ain't gonna have none [Verse 2: roots rock groove gets nastier, blues-rock guitar licks answer the vocal, bass pushes forward, singer leans into the absurd swagger] Don't like my cooking? Well Baby That's fine I got a big ol' wiener And I don't mind [Chorus: garage rock blast, louder handclaps, gritty harmony doubles on “fortunate bun,” raw live-band energy, no arena gloss] It's the fortunate bun You ain't gonna have none You want a bite of my dog Ain't gonna have none It's the fortunate bun You ain't gonna have none You want a bite of my dog Ain't gonna have none [Outro: fast swamp-rock vamp, repeated chant, live-room bleed, guitar riff riding out, drummer slightly overplays the snare fills] Ooh I'm a fortunate bun I'm a fortunate bun I'm a fortunate bun
