Story Behind The Song

An opera inspired by Rush 2112, but not so much that we'd get sued.

Lyrics

Prelude:

Here ye all the tale of the glorious rock pants
Which for the next twelve minutes shall vigorously fondle your soul
Our story takes place In a ridiculously distant future
A child born to a pantless society ruled by the robe bearing Monks of Conformity

We are the monks of conformity

The child?s name, Taylor Pantmaker
And Thought it was just a coincidental surname,
He shall grow up to defeat the Monks and reinvent the unreinventable

We are the monks of conformity


Overture:

In the year 22453
By the order of an ancient decree
Every single person must be naked below the waist

And you could guess by the Shirts and ties
They were all just normal guys
Except that you could see their units in a world without pants

Then there?s the monks of conformity
here to ensure uniformity in a world without pants
We?re about to tell the story of a world without pants.

There was an honest man who had a gift and a curse
The gift of pant-making was laden in his jeans
Deep in the robe factory he slaved away after hours
But he?ll soon rise to bring the Monkdom to its knees

An end of the batch and the camel toe
An end to the unsightly bulge
The end of the unsightly bulge
Marble bags aplenty and they all dangle free

There are no motel pants
No ballroom in which to dance
You can still wear robes and tee shirts
But there?s no such thing as pants

No more Pants!



Interlude:


But wait a minute, why didn?t I think of this before?
It all makes perfect sense

No one wants their disgusting crotch exposed for all to see
We?ll make a sleeve for each leg a zipper for emergencies
They?re my creation, beautiful circumstance
What shall I call them, my heart tells me pants

Or should I call them leg-johnny?s?
(No, stick to the dream)
Good point.
I must call them pants
I must call them pants


Make the pants I must make the pants
Make the pants I must make the pants
Make the pants
Make the pants

I?ll take these pants to the masses
I?ll take these pants to the moon
I?ll teach some pant making classes
Give me some pant making room

I know they?ll swoon from the beauty
When I take these pants to the monks
Can?t wait to show them my booty
Introduce these monks to my trunks


We are the monks of conformity
Why not wear a robe like me
I am a monk of conformitine
Why not wear a robe mine


But I don?t understand
Can?t you see these bitchin pants
They got this magic design
With this tasteful zipper fly

This outburst is not called
You are banished forever more
Your new position here will be slave at the robe factory

But that?s already my job in the year 22453
You got a terrible stance behold the power of my fabulous pants

Made the pants I just made the pants


Grand Finale:


He was a pant-maker who wore the pants!
He wore the pants!
Who wears the pants who wears the pants!
He was a pant-maker who had a gift!


(Convenient Expository wrap-up by our narrator:)

Everything looked good for Taylor Pantmaker and yes the cosmos
He brought the Monkdom to its naked knees
And sewed them all a pair of these
But shortly thereafter, oddly and completely unforeshadowed
The Galactic Federation would swoop down low and assume control
And thus I bring you thine guitar solo

GUITAR: We have assumed control, We have assumed control

Hell, Yeah!