Bohemian Hype Cult - Remember Roswell, Bitch [tekst, tłumaczenie i interpretacja piosenki]

Average Joe, was an average Joe
A shameless, our father who art with laymen bastard clone
And Average Joe, wasn't worth his mass in mold
But he would swear he was a rainbow from a sac of gold
And Joe was as close to cigars as weather permits
The overcast, rivals Ferris Buehler's endeavor begins
The spectrum descends; Joe added a stark addition to his collection of parking tickets
Fuck it, the car was rented
And instinct demanded he disregard the penance
If money is better spent forgetting, no hard decision
Let's celebrate the day's end with a jar of Guinness, as to discard his wits and
Find his heart was missin';
Quite the vicious mix, and should he find vision spinnin'
He could use the windshield ornaments to cleanse the binge inflicted
Vomit stained watch of his, Good Golly Goddesses
Peep the time Joe, you're late to all addict anonymous
Godspeed. But nah, he' tell him he'd caught stream
Chasing Jack Daniels over rolling rocks through knob's creek
As his attendance slipped, he may as well commit to it
And follow trails of cheap perfume to back alley mistresses
She swallowed his rent with dick-flavored lipstick and
Now he's nervous as fuck for the first of the month
How's it feel Joe? Feeding the addiction
When the fiend leaves its feces your knee deep in your fixes
You refuse sit alone in your four-cornered room staring at candles
Your mind's too much a trick in itself
Supposing sleep won't watch your back, you roam the streets
But the chip on your shoulder is too large for you to oversee
Joe travels alleyway to Side Street
Eluding delusions, to find peace is movement
Your eyes dance with the shadows only they see
To avoid the creations your imagination and brain breed
The concrete jungle; he traced the buildings stone ascent
The walls are closing in. AY JOE, THE WALLS ARE CLOSING IN!
Oh Shit, Joe sprints, stopped to catch his breath around the road's bend
And noticed, he's alone in the open
But one moment Joe, silence isn't solace
You'd be wise to peel your eyes for unidentified flying objects
But it's too little, too late
The saucer moves as bell tolls, ah hell Joe, what a doomed day
Cradled by the tractor beam he falls into a blackened dream
Ain't no place to run when Mars attacks and he
Regained consciousness to deep space non-natives
And pondered how the green race could see straight with almond slit
Eye socket; treat time as the Delorean
As is the way of omniscient Tralfamadorians
The green shades told Joe to lend his ear
Our Joe's to be a cult father so don't bother with senseless peers
And legends live, as death comes, so it goes
Next he remembers, he'd returned to his homeless stroll
Average Joe, said fuck the average Joe
Shameless our father who art with laymen bastard clones
Cause Average Joe, had galactic prose
And yo, the Kool-aid is spiked, grab a glass and toast