Been a dry spell for the emo ones
Now like an incompetent plumber
A flooding of theosophies
Of pointless and broken-down ‘Aughties
Ohhh (this is the sound of a fart, this is the sound of a fart)
Ohhh (this is the sound of a fart, this is the sound of a fart)

The flash of teeth, subliminal bungs
Gyration of their bods
Oh please tell me, is it Festivus yet?

A panic at the disco!
A panic at the disco!
Goofy birds, these guys are often in bars
It’s weird they fell off the charts
But truth be told, they won’t sell in stores
I fear, I fear, like local Wal-Mart

Oh oh-oh, oh (this is the sound of a fart, this is the sound of a fart) (2x)

Music that sells for the queasy prawns
Moody belles and unbearable chaste nerds
Addressing their inequities
Blown away by poetic pretenders
Ohhh (this is the sound of a fart, this is the sound of a fart) (bleh!)
Ohhh (this is the sound of a fart, this is the sound of a fart)

Don’t try to make sense in the bridge of the song
Bury it alive
Though it’s screwy it sounds all right

A panic at the disco!
A panic at the disco!
And these birds live just like shiny little stars
I hear a quaint little fart
But the truth be told, it really just bores
Oh dear, oh dear, it’s something like art
Oh oh oh, oh dear, it’s something like art
Oh oh, oh dear it’s something like art
Ohhh (is this the sound of a fart)
It’s nearly something like art
Ohhh (bleh!) (is this the sound of a fart)
It’s nearly something like art
Ohhh (bleh!) (is this the sound of a fart)
It’s nearly something like art
Ohhh (bleh!) (is this the sound of a fart)
It’s nearly something like art