Making tapes, gnashing my teeth, plucking string on my guitar Summer sun and I'm fooling everyone Playing instruments when I can't play them I use my teeth like a hi-hat, I'm a DJ with my tongue There's a drum-set on my lips, which, bending the tape I make sound fake, like I'm playing bass when I don't have one Record without plans Record without plans And the ice cream truck passes by Hearing birds sing Recording everything Electricity in the summer Tons of blank tapes and a copy machine There's a record label in my closet Made a bunch of tapes and passed them around And asked other people to be on them Everybody's got a tape and mostly they're great And I've never heard anything better Made a bunch of tapes