Come join the followers of Eris and use your pineal gland
To learn the
truth and ways to cause chaos through the land
The number five is sacred, the
fingers on your hand
We'll form a band...
And make five grand...
And
make abrasive sand.
We're the discord-io-man-i-acs
And some of us are slacks
but non of us
are quacks
Except Pope Max Flax Beeblewax
Meet Lt. Wilkes and Loopi, with their 50 ft women
PYRiMYD and his Brine
Shrimp, who can not spell Kristin
Jeff X. Mink, Schol-R-LEA and lhos are busy
postin'
And Doris the Magic Sausage Roll, who's got a golden piston
There's Reverend Father Zoweee Wow, who really works for Zang
Dispair,
Stimpy, Hagbard, Guy Fox and Wednesday (you rang?)
White, Harvey, acb, Lupus
and the rest of the gang
Then of course there's Grayface, who we'd all like
to hang
We're the discord-o-man-i-acs
And we don't pay no tax
When the taxman
comes with his axe
We don't give him the facts
You can be a pope as well and start your own cabal
Know the meaning of the
golden apple and the Sacred Chao
The Principia Discoria tells you exactly
how
And you'll go wow...
(And maybe ow...)
'Cause confusion rules now
Now it's time to make tracks
Ride away on our pet yaks
Nothing sucks
like a vax
We're the discord-o-man-i-acs