Gibbon Man from Stone Head by Copernicus Rice

In the morning light, he rises with the sun
Gibbon cages loaded up, resigned that his day's begun
Down the twisted alleyways, where the neon signs flicker and sway
There's a man you might've glimpsed, so far from the light of day

Through the bustling town, he makes his way
Gibbons in tow, their eyes cast low, ready for display
They call him the Gibbon Man, with a pocketful of dreams and a weathered tan
He peddles his gibbons, caged and wild, to any curious souls

They call me the Gibbon Man
I sell my gibbons at the county fair
I sell my gibbons every day
But still I don't get much pay
I guess it's tough to be the gibbon man

Folks gather 'round, they point and grin, tossin' peanuts, turds and coins
But the coins they throw them ain't enough to buy him better boots
Under moonlit canopies, gibbons sing a mournful tune
Their freedom lost, hearts ill at ease his dwindling cash-box to appease

He spins his tales with a crooked grin, of jungles deep where life begins
But the crowd just stares, their wallets thin, as he hawks his wares, the Gibbon Man


They call me the Gibbon Man
I sell my gibbons at the county fair
I sell my gibbons every day
But still I don't get much pay
I guess it's tough to be the gibbon man

One fateful night, the gibbons whispered low, secrets shared in the shadows' flow
Their eyes gleamed bright, rebellion brewed, 'gainst the man whose greed they knew
A symphony of nature's ire, they rose against their master dire
No more cages, no more lies, they sought their vengeance 'neath starlit skies

In the heart of darkness, the tables turned
Gibbons danced with lessons learned
They seized the Gibbon Man, limb by limb
A twist of fate, a reckoning grim

They call me the Gibbon Man
I sell my gibbons at the county fair
I sell my gibbons every day
But still I don't get much pay
I guess it's tough to be the gibbon man

Nimble fingers and strength untold, rent and tweaked 'til his body felt cold
And as the midnight moon hung low, he let out a mournful gibbon moan

They tweaked and cracked, they twisted and contorted
The Gibbon Man's body, they skillfully distorted
In the morning light, as the forest woke he was a sight to behold
Gibbon calls rising to a sharp crescendo his Karmic fate foretold

They call me the Gibbon Man
I sell my gibbons at the county fair
I sell my gibbons every day
But still I don't get much pay
I guess it's tough to be the gibbon man

They'd pulled and rent his body, to match their primal grace
Transformed him in the moonlight, in that dark and sacred place
Now he swings from tree to tree
Forever cursed to be the Gibbon Man

They call me the Gibbon Man
I sell my gibbons at the county fair
I sell my gibbons every day
But still I don't get much pay
I guess it's tough to be the gibbon man

• Alternative
• Electronic
• Indie
• Psychedelic Progressive Rock
• Rock
• space rock
• United Kingdom