Beanie Babies

Lyrics

Yeah. Lemme tell you 'bout ninety-seven. 
Something in the water.

You remember them tubs? Stacked up in the den.
Clear plastic coffins, never see the light again.
Each one got a name, a birthday, a little poem on the tag.
Had to keep 'em mint, couldn't let the value sag.
My cousin Cheryl, she swore on her mama's grave,
this was the ticket, the fortune she would save.
Quit her job at the Waffle House, started trading on AOL.
Said, "This ain't a toy, baby, this is capital."

Plastic beans and a polyester dream.
Piled up high, a get-rich-quick scheme.
Called it an asset, called it the future, called it solid gold.
Just a bucket full of bears nobody wanted sold.
A grin and a grimace, peak Americana, yeah.
A heart-shaped tag on a million-dollar prayer.

Then the purple one dropped. For the Princess, you know.
And the whole damn world just lost its mind, put on a show.
Ty Warner in his mansion, retiring 'em one by one.
Turning five-dollar bears into the goddamn sun.
Folks taking out second mortgages for a 'Peanut' the Royal Blue.
Lined up 'round the Hallmark store, what else you gonna do?
Saw a man trade his Camry for a flock of felt birds.
Believed every single one of the whispered words.

Plastic beans and a polyester dream.
Piled up high, a get-rich-quick scheme.
Called it an asset, called it the future, called it solid gold.
Just a bucket full of bears nobody wanted sold.
A grin and a grimace, peak Americana, yeah.
A heart-shaped tag on a million-dollar prayer.

Heard about a couple, down in Gwinnett.
Split the house, the kids, and then they had to settle a debt.
The judge in his black robe, gavel in his hand.
Lookin' at a spreadsheet of a plush-toy promised land.
He gets Patti the Platypus, she gets Claude the Crab.
The lawyer's bill bigger than the whole damn tab.
Nineteen ninety-nine rolls 'round, the clock is set to pop.
And the floor falls out from the tippy-tippy top.

Now they just sit there. 
In the attic, in the heat.
A pile of bad faith you can smell from the street.
Yeah. A polyester dream.
My cousin Cheryl? Back at the Waffle House.
Yeah. Scrambled, smothered, and covered.