From the recording Packaging
We have all battled with modern packaging. This song is my take on it.
I bought my son a little Matchbox car for Christmas,
Like the ones I had way back when.
I thought, “I’ll take it out and play with it, he’ll never know the difference,
‘Cause when I’m done I’ll put it right back in.”
So I tried to gently pry apart the plastic sheets that held it,
First with fingers, then a butter knife.
When that failed, I looked closer, the plastic was like welded,
But this consumer had just begun to fight.
Packaging, what’s up with packaging,
You can’t open, can’t shut it, can’t even freakin’ cut it,
Get your hack saw clean, give that ax a swing,
And fill that chainsaw up with gasoline, here comes the packaging.
I tried trimming ‘round the edges with my orange-handled scissors,
But the plastic was so thick they jammed and bent.
So I stormed out to the workshop, got a hammer and a chisel,
And banged and cussed, but not a dent.
So I put a brand-new razor in my box cutter,
And slammed that tiny toy to the table top.
But the blade slipped off the plastic, to a finger, and another,
And I wrapped ‘em in my shirt til the bleeding stopped.
I plugged in my buzz saw, and revved it up to screaming,
Then sparks and parts and plastic flew.
When the dust started clearing and my eyes started seeing,
I’d cut that cursed car, slap in two.
But each half of that auto was still encased in plastic,
Now two packages, both intact,
And each half of that Chevy was still firmly fastened,
With a locking pull tie around the back.
I bought my son another Matchbox car for Christmas,
And it hit me, they named this sucker right.
So I wrapped that evil package with a box of kitchen matches,
A blowtorch and a stick of dynamite.
Packaging, what’s up with packaging.
Steve: vocals, guitar
Eliot Wadopian: upright bass
Dave Johnson: mandolin, fiddle