Fortune Cookie Dinner Songtext
von Andy Rinehart

Here comes Cabot
Gloop Glop Gloop Glop
And he′s got a big idea
It was yesterday when

He saw the children reading fortunes in the park
One cookie, one fortune cookie
Could change a life he bets
He bets

And his hand disappears into his magic pocket
The bum buys plane tickets galore
Sends one to you, I got one too because

It was several months back
When he spun the phone book and whack
He found your name
The fortune dinner, the one cookie dinner
Why did I come here?
Why did I?


The old god doesn't know who he is
He thinks the pantheon went down with Valhalla
He comes waddling down some old hill
Looking for a pickaxe and a goat named Bill
You could show him the deity′s address book
You could show him his name on page five
But the old god doesn't know who he is
Thinks he's a plowman from 1809

Here comes Cabot′s suit
Slipping off the hanger onto his arm
He hunted down this suit for many months
Rejecting every good one
Then finally came along the damask linen

The finest damask linen
The finest suit in the world
With the finest face of a man
Shining from the collar

And all for the cookie, all for the dinner
And no one knows where this man is from
There′s a single plate at each setting
And a single fortune cookie
One chance to have life change
Just two or three words


Cabot breaks his cookie
And everyone else breaks theirs
"Damask linen" he reads
The fabric of his suit
He looks at the ceiling and chuckles
At such a sharp coincidence

But then his face turns with the realization
His hands shake with the truth
Cabot stands up and runs
Cabot has recalled
Cabot has remembered who he is
But then he forgets

The old god doesn't know who he is
He thinks the pantheon went down with Valhalla
He comes waddling down some old hill
Looking for a pickaxe and a goat named Bill
You could show him the deity′s address book
You could show him his name on page five
But the old god doesn't know who he is
Thinks he′s a plowman from 1809

The old god doesn't know who he is
He′s on the street in his platypus clothes
He wears paper plates on his feet
Because they're good for skidding in snow
He thinks he's one of the kids in the park
He thinks he′s you or the guy in the store
The old god doesn′t know who he is
And the busy worlds identity shines