Nightmare on Surf Street (Radio Edit)

Hey Beachfront Vinny Daverino
Hey, yo, man
This is Alice Cooper
Don't go to sleep
And have a nightmare about
Dick Dale's silver whammy bar
You are the new king of the surf guitar
Remember
Use the twang, Dave
Use the twang
Keep surfing Beachfront Vinny

Now I have a story that I'm scared to tell
About surf rock purists who put me through hell
They try to gaslight me so that I've got no self worth
Because I added vocals
Trap beats
And called it surf
The silver whammy bar
I'm twanging every single day
And even when I lost the whammy bar
I twang it anyway
They say that Beachfront Vinny is in full surf retreat
Recording this track is a nightmare
On surf street

It was sometime after Dick Dale died alright
An old strange man at the Surf Spot one night
As I checked the door
While still in my pajammy
Opened up the envelope to find a pure silver whammy
He said nothing
Then the cell phone buzzed
Bugging me cause
It was a crazy audio track
The phone vibration and I just checked to see
It was a text from dead Dick Dale to me
He said, Vinny
My surf guitar student
Here's my silver whammy bar
I hope you will use it
The surf purists are out for your defeat
That began the nightmare
On surf street

It was buzzing on the E, like a mother
You never even met Dick Dale
I knew his brother
I checked the Jag
Didn't see the whammy bar
I searched the Surf Spot
And every surf guitar
I went outside
And I was trapped in a wave
Lost the surf contest
To a mammacita beach babe
Then this awful voice came at me from afar and said
You lost the surf contest now you lost the whammy bar
I wiped out before I got on my board
Screamed out, what do I need a silver whammy bar for
Got half way down the boardwalk and I had some trouble breathing
Said, how embarrassing
I went ten yards, if even
Strolled to the beach and said I'll take your surf challenge
Nervously laughed, ha ha
Like Jimmy Fallon
Got on my board
Beachfront Vinny D
Then thirty foot swells came crashing down on me
And from beyond Dick Dale said
Use reverb and twang
Surf like I taught you
Then just hang
The surf music genre
You will never belong
You're more like Frank Zappa
Weird Al
Cheech and Chong
Hey Dick, I think you gotta remember
I'd never join a genre that would have me as a member
Look, I'm a comic
No one cares what I said
The people want vocals and the surf genre's dead
I pat him on the back and said thank you, king of surf
Then opened up the door and said must get back to work
He got mad, took out his fender
Smashed his guitar, I said
Hey look
There's the silver whammy bar
This wasn't a dream man
Dick Dale was for real, he said
Sign your name here for this surf recording deal
No further words and then I bolted upstairs
Screamed for help, pulled what's left of my hair
Pulled a swig of stale diet ginger ale and wailed
No one cares about me or Dick Dale
He started to scream and surf his fender guitar
And then twanged it
As my alarm went off and then
Reverb
It was the end of the song, I said
Now who's Cheech and Chong
Then I saw the Fender Jazz at my feet
And that was proof that there had been a nightmare on surf street