Joe likes dynamite He's high-strung, uptight, never-scared, racing into midnight He drives a muscle car, bored out, recompressed, powered just right He's blue-collar quick, sparks his camels with a Bic Like a crack-pipe Cuz Joe digs dynamite Joe's not one to sleep He drinks Mountain Dew voodoos Like a banshee all week Playing Ouija board with his pet parrot justly named Tweak It's an LSD dream with a talk-show theme that's turned bleak Cuz Joe can't speak Joe's with the NRA He swears up and down Like a sailor on leave that his whole damn family's gay He's got a fuse for the task with a half-empty flask, and he's gonna make 'em pay With the dynamite That should make things right Cuz Joe digs dynamite So, Joe consults the Pope When he can't cope with the trials of the day And he's used up all his dope But the thirty-ought-six in his closet likes to say, "Joe, don't lose hope", man.. "Joe, use dynamite"! That should make things right Cuz Joe digs dynamite!