Analysis of 'Air Headed Bohemian'

I feel warm and like Fred
Flintstone,
in my poncho; Perhaps
Clint Eastwood too?
My vanity knows not
of known bounds when I like,
looking at me-er-he-er-he...
I joke,
I jive,
I - Express;
and yes,
I like my sillyness.

I know why
some cowboys
wore hats,
now...
My hair spray
'Leave-In Conditioner'
detangles and
all that,
jazz
but my head-duh-err-ed!
Still feels cold.

Comedy or rocking?
Satire and social class!
Why not, just stick it
up my arse!? - I may be
crass alas,
Um' gassed
toking grass - um, yea.
"Whatever, Daddy..."
"Can I..."
"Three hudred dollars?"
"Daddy, can I have three
hundred dollars?"
"Have"
"Daddy, can I have three
hundred dollars?"