They say I woke up late, missed my train, Tell me my wallet lookin' like a ghost — man, that’s a shame. Boss is callin', I ain’t pickin’ up, Too busy with the angels sippin’ from the cup. But oh — we can step on glass! No spills, no chills, just a marble pass. From Plomari’s gate to the city within, No worries, no stress — just put it in the Vaskbin! Just put it in the Vaskbin! Wave your hands, let the good times spin. Flood too high? Don't even trip, One flick of a fin and we let it rip! JUST PUT IT IN THE VASKBIN! Credit card maxed, fridge got none, But King Spiros out here pourin' up fun — They call him Sissy, silk-lined crown, Rules the marble thrones where waves crash down. Golden chalice, marble grin, They don’t sip, they just dump it in the VASKBIN! Rainy days, leaky roof, Still got statues in the booth! They take the flood, pour it in, No worries, no stress — just put it in the VASKBIN! JUST PUT IT IN THE VASKBIN! A seamstress weaves the stars with a spider’s thread, Spinning galaxies — pull the needle, twist the thread. The Strawberry Label sings in tune, Pressing vinyls on the marble moon. JUST PUT IT IN THE VASKBIN! JUST PUT IT IN THE VASKBIN!