McDonald's is the place to rock
It is a restaurant where they buy food to eat
It is a good place to listen to the music
People flock here to get down to the rock music
Rock 'n' Roll McDonald's
Rock 'n' Roll McDonald's
Rock 'n' Roll McDonald's
Rock 'n' Roll McDonald's
McDonald's will make you fat
They serve Big Macs
They serve Quarter-Pounders
They will put pounds on you
Rock 'n' Roll McDonald's
Rock 'n' Roll McDonald's
Rock 'n' Roll McDonald's
Rock 'n' Roll McDonald's
McDonald's hamburgers are the worst
They are worse than Burger King
A Big Mac has twenty-six grams of fat
A Quarter-Pounder has twenty-eight grams of fat
Rock 'n' Roll McDonald's
Rock 'n' Roll McDonald's
Rock 'n' Roll McDonald's
Rock 'n' Roll McDonald's
Rock on London
Rock on Chicago
Wheaties, breakfast of champions
Decades ago I saw him perform at the shitty punk venue that I miss so much nowadays.
After he finished his set he hung out on a couch in the back, his considerable mass occupying every cushion, it may have been a love seat. After purchasing one of his albums (vinyl) we "headbutted", gently and respectfully holding each others skull and touching them together. Rumor was he had severe schizophrenia and many of his songs do allude to demons in his head. I know he preferred headbutts to shaking hands though, it was kinda his thing. His forehead had several large bumps on it, not sure if that was from external injury or internal tumescence.
Don't remember the name of the album but the cover art was a drawing Wesley did of a city intersection, done in ballpoint pen and Crayola-style markers, featuring a city bus. Everyone was talking about him weeks before the show and I'm not sure how that happened in our small town before the rise of Google. Good times.
I hope history records him fondly as a lasting presence of his time.