My mind has become scrumbled and I can’t remember a thing. I can’t remember a thing that I’ve seen. A thing that I’ve been. How have I been? I’ve been put in the muncing machine and now I’m all munced up. I’ve been fed to the scrumbler and now am all scrumbled. I’ve been chopped up. Chopped off. I’ve been fed to the scrumbling machine and now I don’t. We’ve all been scrumbled you know it’s not just me. We’ve all been fed into the scrumbling machine. Headfirst. That’s what they do. That’s what they always do. They give us to the scrumbler. They feed us head-first into the scrumbling machine…
Scrumble, scrumble, scrumble. Let’s all get scrumbled. Let’s scrumble our lives away. See who can crawl to the top of the scrumble pile. Ascend through the ranks. See who can become a professor of pure and applied scrumbology. And who can’t. We’re all taking a free ride up the scrumbulator – only it’s not really free because there’s a hidden charge. There’s a fee. There’s a fee we have to pay without knowing that we’re paying it. We’re too scrumbled to know that we’re paying it. We’re too scrumbled to know anything! We’re too scrumbled to care…
We’ve all been fed to the big scrumbling machine. We’ve all been munced. Don’t you remember? Don’t you remember the screams? Don’t you remember the screams of those who are about to be scrumbled? Don’t you remember the pitiful screams of those who are being scrumbled? By the Great Scrumbler. Of course you don’t. You don’t remember because you’ve been munced. Because you’ve been scrumbulated. I’ll see you sometime later when I’m through with my scrumbulator! Or when it’s through with me, more like!
The Scrumbulator’s a one-way ticket, a one-way ride. Hop on quickly girls and boys you don’t want to miss the bus. Hop on quick. Hop on board the Scrumble Express. And if you don’t hop on they’ll push you! They’ll feed you into the intake tubes. They’ll stuff you in head-first. They’ll let the jolly old scrumbulator get a right good hold on you. A right good hold. A right good hold. And then when you’re thoroughly scrumbulated it’ll spit you out. It’ll throw you on the pile with all the others…
Get scrumbling, kids! Help yourself to a great big splice of Scrumble Pie. The bigger the splice the batter it is, right? Can’t you just feel those delicious scrumbly juices running down your chin? I know I can. Oh boy oh boy. I’ve gone and stuffed myself on munce pies and now I’m sick. I’ve gone and done it now. I’m sick but I don’t know it. I’ve paid the price. I’ve been fed to the scrumbler-machine and so now I think scrumble-pie tastes good! I’m loving it! I’m loving that good old Scrumble Pie. I can’t get enough of it, in fact. That’s what keeps the good old scrumbulator running along on its tracks. Never a frown, right? That’s what keeps the whole filthy lousy dirty show on the road….
