It was the blackest night
There was no moon in sight
You know the stars ain't shinin'
'Cause the sky's too tight
I heard the scarey wind
I seen some ugly trees
There was a werewolf honkin'
'Long the side of me
I'm mean 'n I'm bad, y'know I ain't no sissy
Got a big-titty girly by the name of Chrissy
Talkin' about her 'n my bike 'n me . . .
'N this ride up the Mountain of Mystery, mystery
I noticed even the crickets
Was Were actin' weird up here
'N so I figured I might
Just drink a little beer
I said, "Gimme summa that what yer suckin' on . . . "
But there was no reply
'Cause she was gone . . .
"Where's those titties that I like so well, 'n my goddamn beer!"
Is what I started to yell, then I heard this noise
Like a crunchin' twig, 'n up jumped the Devil . . .
He's about this big . . .
He had a red suit on
An' a widow's peak
An' then a pointed tail
'N like a sulphur reek
Yes, it was him awright,
I sweared I knowed it was
He had some human flesh
Stuck underneath his claws
You know, it looked to me
Like it was titty skin
I said, "You sonofabitch!"
'Cause I was mad at him,
Well he just got out his floss
'N started cleanin' his fang
So I shot him with my shooter,
Said: BANG BANG BANG
Then the sucker just laughed 'n said:
Terry:
Oh, put it away . . .
You know, I ate her all up . . . now what you gonna say?
FZ:
You ate my Chrissy?
Terry:
Yeah! Titties 'n all!
FZ:
Well, what about the beer then, boy?
Terry:
Ah . . . Were the cans this tall?
FZ:
Even her boots?
Terry:
Would I lie to you?
FZ:
Shit, you musta been hungry!
Terry:
Yes, this is true.
FZ:
Well Don't they pay y'all you good
For the stuff that you do?
Terry:
Well, you know
I can't complain when the checks come through . . .
FZ:
Well I want my Chrissy,
'N I want my beer
So you just barf it back up
Now, Devil, do you hear?
Terry:
Blow it out your ass, motorcycle man!
I mean, I am the Devil,
Do you understand?
Just what will you give me for your
Titties and beer?
I suppose you noticed this little contract here . . .
FZ:
Yer goddam right, you
Son-of-a-whore
Terry:
Don't call me that!
FZ:
That's about the only reason I learned writin' for . . .
Gimme that paper . . . bet yer ass I'll I will sign . . .
'Cause Because I need a beer,
'N it's titty-squeezin' time!
Terry:
Man, you can't fool me . . . you ain't that bad . . .
I mean you shoulda seen some of the souls I that I've had . . .
FZ:
Oh, yeah?
Terry:
Why there was Milhous Nixon 'n Agnew, too . . .
'N both of those suckers was worse 'n you . . .
FZ:
Well, let's make a deal if you think that's true
I mean, you're the Devil so . . .
Whatcha gonna do?
Terry: Wait a minute, a tinge of doubt crosses my mind when you say that you want to make a deal with me.
FZ: That's very, very true.
Terry: Wait, you ain't supossed supposed to wanna make a deal with me.
FZ: Ah, but I'm slightly different than your average customer, Devil.
Terry: But, wait, but most people don't want to make a deal with me. Wha . . .
FZ: Yeah . . .
Terry: What's your story?
FZ: Well, most people are afraid of you, see? They don't know how stupid you are—I happen to know that you jack off to a picture of Punky Meadows when you get home.
Terry: Grrah . . . Stupid . . . Grrh . . .
FZ: You know, ever since that guy told you that he contained more fluid than Jeff Beck you can try to you've been tryin' to outdo him. Oh, butAwright, look, I'm gonna say one thing to you—this may not registered register right away, but let me say you this—leave your pickle alone for a couple of nights, you know what I mean? Now, come on! I'm only interested in a couple of things . . . Wait, is that a note for me? Is somebody passing me a note? What is does this say? "Frank, please do me a favour, I can't find a brother of mine, I could dig it if you could call him from stage. His name is Dirty Tom Nomads, M.C.," signed "Thanks, Bear" or "Bean," I can't tell. Well, if he's out there, Dirty Tony Dillon De La Nomads, M.C., get in touch with Bean or Bear . . . And as I was sayin', Devil, I'm an average sort of a person, I'm— You wouldn't believe it, but, I'm very much like the people here in this audience tonight.
Terry: What?
FZ: I think we definitely have something in common.
Terry: Wait a minute, I thought you have had funny things growing in your hair and all that other stuff, I thought, write weird music, you know, I thought . . .
FZ: Listen . . .
Terry: . . . biker and everything, I mean, shit, you know?
FZ: . . . listen carefully . . .
Terry: . . . big tittie chic that you just had out here with the camera, I mean, you know . . .
FZ: Listen carefully to me, oh, Devil . . .
Terry: Uh-huh . . .
FZ: I'm only interested in two things.
Terry: Yeah .
FZ: See if you can guess what they are.
Terry: I would think . . . uh . . . let's see, maybe . . . uh . . .
FZ: Well, I'll give you . . .
Terry: Stravinsky . . . and, uh . . .
FZ: I'll give you two clues.
Terry: . . . let's see . . . uh . . .
FZ: Let go of your pickle.
Terry: What?
FZ: Let go of your pickle!
Terry: I'm not holding my pickle.
FZ: Well, who's holding your pickle then?
Terry: I don't know . . . ha! She's out in the audience. Hey, Dale, would you like to come up here and hold my pickle to satisfy this weird man out here on the stage?
FZ: You're probably wondering why we call it a pickle.
Ray: Ha ha ha!
Terry: Oh, no . . .
FZ: I don't— I hate, I hate to squeal on you, Bozzio—I mean, Devil—but, look, I'm only interested in two things.
Terry: Now, wait a minute, all I have to say is, God help me! . . . [You can Even though I have this, this fucking mask on . . .
FZ: Ha ha ha ha ha . . . ! Listen, if you think that mask looks bad, you oughta see his pickle. I'm only interested in two things, and that's titties and beer, you know what I mean?
Terry: What?
FZ: Yeah.
Terry: Titties and beer?
FZ: Titties and beer, titties and beer, titties and beer, titties and beer, titties and beer, titties and beer, titties and beer, titties and beer . . .
Terry: (Growling) Whoa, I don't know if you're the right guy!
FZ: . . . titties and beer, titties and beer, titties and beer . . .
Terry:
No! Don't sign it! Give me time to think . . .
I mean . . .
FZ:
AlrightAll right!
Terry:
Hold on a minutesecond, boy . . .
'Cause that's Magic Ink!
And then the Devil puked let go of his pickle
'N out jumped m'girl
They heard the titties PLOP-PLOPPIN'
All around the world, she said:
"I GOT ME THREE BEERS 'N A FIST FULLA DOWNS,
AN' I'M GONNA GET WRECKEDRIPPED, SO FUCK YOU CLOWNS!"
And Then she gave us the finger,
It was rigid 'n stiff,
That's when the Devil, he farted
An' she went right over the cliff
(Whoa . . . Tinsel Time!)
Well, the Devil was mad
I took off to my pad
I swear I do declare!
How did she get back there?
I swear I do declare!
How did she get back there?
I swear I do declare!
How did she get back there?
I swear I do declare!
How did she get back there?
I swear I do declare!
How did she get back there?
I swear I do de . . .
FZ: Awright . . . awright, that, that's enough for the Devil and his famous pickle. We're goin' to make another dramatic if, if somewhat . . . rickety subwaysegue into another song called "Cruisin' For Burgers," wait a minute . . .
FZ: One, one, one . . .
Don Pardo: In today's rapidly changing world, musical groups appear almost every day with some new promotional device. Some of thisthese devices hadhave been known to leave irreparable scars on the minds of foolish young consumers. One such case is seated before you, live on stage—yes, Terry Bozzio . . .
Terry: That's meeee!
Don Pardo: That cute little drummer. Terry recently felt fell in love with a publicity photo of a boy named Punky Meadows, lead guitar player from a group called ANGEL. In the photo, Punky was seen with a beautiful shiny hairdo in a semi-profile which emphasizes emphasized the pootched pooched out succulence of his insolent pouting rictus.
Terry: Ooh, Punky.
Don Pardo: The sight of which drove the helpless drummer mad with desire!
I can't stand the way he pouts
'Cause he might not be pouting for me!
(Hah! Punky pouts for no one!Pouting for you?
Hah! Punky Meadows? Pouting for you?)
His hair's so shiny and it's done real nice
'Til I squirm with ecstasy!
Punky, Punky, give me your lips
To die on . . .
Oh, Punky, isn't it romantic, Punky?
Punky, Punky, give me your lips
To die on . . . I promise not to come in your mouth
Punky, Punky, your album's the shits
It's all wrong . . . but listen, this is no laughing matter
I ain't really queer
But if he ever got near
Steven Tyler would PAY to see!
Pay to see
Punky's whips, Punky's whips
His hair's so shiny, I love his hips
I love his teeth, 'n his gums 'n such . . .
PUNKY
(What's up, baby?)
Yeah, baby, that's what I like to hear.You're an ANGEL . . .
(Oh, you know that's the kind of stuff that I like to hear)
You're too much
He's been havin' a rash
(No shit)
That keeps the girls away
Skin doom
(Skin doom!)
Is what the doctors say
I wonder if Punky is rehearsin' today
I'll just go over, 'n hear him play
His hair is so pretty . . . I'd like to bite his neck
I've heard a rumor he's more fluid than Jeff Beck
But Dig this . . .
I AIN'T QUEER
I AIN'T GAY
(He's a little fond of chiffon in a wrist array
A wrist array)
That's all it is
Punky's lips, Punky's lips
They make me squirmOh, I love his hair, eatin' dunk-y chips
Yes, I love his skin blink and his blank-blank-blank
Why, maybe he'd like to yank my crank?
YANK IT PUNKY! YANK IT FASTER!
YANK IT HARDER! YANK IT ALL NITE LONG!
COME ON PUNKY! GET FUNKY!
I AIN'T QUEER
(NO NO NO NO)
I AIN'T GAY
(NO NO NO NO)
(He's just a little fond of chiffon in a wrist array
A wrist array)
One more time for the world!
(And then he said:)
I AIN'T QUEER
I AIN'T GAY
(He's a little fond of chiffon in a wrist array)
I-I
Lord, I-I'm fo-fo-o-o-nd
Of chiffo-on
In a wrist array-ee-ay-hey
I said
I-I-I-I-I-I-I
I'm a little fo-o-nd
Of chiffo-on
In a wrist array-hey-ay-ay-hey
FZ: Thank you. Our Birthday Boy, Terry Bozzio! Sad but true . . . Just a minute . . .
Honey honey, hey
Baby, don't you want a man like me
Honey honey, hey
Baby, don't you want a man like me
He was the Playboy Type (he smoked a pipe)
His fav'rite phrase was "outa-site!"
He had an Irish Setter
(Hrtch-a-pltch
Hrtch-a-pltch
Hrtch-a-pltch
Arf!)
It was a singles bar, a Tuesday night
The moon was dim, the band was tight
They did the Bump together
What a splendid sight
(Roon doon doon doon)
Her teeth were white
(Oo-ah oo-oooh)
The drinks were cheap
(It was Ladies Nite)
He was glad that he met her
She was an office girl ("her My name was is Betty")
Her fav'rite group was Helen Reddy
(They discussed the weather)
Honey honey, hey
Baby, don't you want a man like me
Honey honey, hey
Baby, don't you want a man like me
Honey honey, hey
Baby, don't you want a
Baby, don't you want a
Baby, don't you want a
Man!
She was a lonely sort, just a little too short
Her jokes were dumb and her fav'rite sport
Was hockey (in the winter)
He was duly impressed and was quick to suggest
Any sport with a PUCK had to be 'bout the best
As he jabbed his elbow in her
(Get it honey? Get it?)
Later on they went off to where the music was soft
The candles were drippy, they saw a real hippy
Who delivered their dinner
The rice was brown, and soon they found
That the crowd around that had jammed the room
Well it seemed to be getting thinner
Honey honey, hey
Baby, don't you want a man like me
Honey honey, hey
Baby, don't you want a man like me
Honey honey, hey
Baby, don't you want a
Baby, don't you want a
Baby, don't you want a
Man!
He took her home to a motor court
She wouldn't would not kiss him, he tried to ignore it
But it made him angry!
(Angry! It made me angry!
Why it made me so angry
I could have killed that lousy bitch!)
He called her a slut
(Slut slut slut . . . )
A pig
(Pig pig pig . . . )
And a whore
(Whore whore whore . . . )
A bitch
(Bitch bitch bitch . . . )
And a cunt
(Cunt cunt cunt . . . )
And she slammed the door
(The door!)
In a petulant frenzy!
(A petulant frenzy!
This is a petulant
Frenzy!
I'm petulant
And I'm having a frenzy!)
On the sofa she weeps
(Boo hoo hoo hoo)
She weeps and she weeps
(Boo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo)
She weeps and she peeps
Through the curtain
He just got in his car
But the battery's dead
So he askasked to use the phones
And she gives him some head
And that's the end of the story
Honey honey, hey
Baby, don't you want a man like me
Honey honey, hey
Baby, don't you want a man like me
Honey honey, hey
Baby, don't you want a
Baby, don't you want a
Baby, don't you want a
Man!
Baby, don't you want a man sometimes?
FZ: And now folks, it's time for Don Pardo to deliver our special Illinois Enema Bandit-type announcement. Take it away, Don!
Don Pardo: This is a true story about a famous criminal from right around Chicago. This is the story of Michael Kenyon, a man who's serving time at this very moment for the crime of armed robbery. It so happenedhappens, that at the time of the robbery these robberies, Michael decided to give his female victims a little enema—apparently, there was no law against that. But his name lives on—Michael Kenyon, The Illinois Enema Bandit!
The Illinois Enema Bandit
I heard he's on the loose
I heard he's on the loose
Lord, the pitiful screams
Of all them college-educated women
Boy, He'd just be tyin' 'em up
They'd be all bound down!
Just be pumpin' every one of 'em up with all the bag fulla
The Illinois Enema Bandit Juice
He just be pumpin' every one of 'em up with all the bag fulla
The Illinois Enema Bandit Juice
He just be pumpin' every one of 'em up with all the bag fulla
The Illinois Enema Bandit Juice
He just be pumpin' every one of 'em up with all the bag fulla
The Illinois Enema Bandit Juice
The Illinois Enema Bandit
I heard it on the news
I heard it on the news
Bloomington, Illinois
He has caused some alarm
Just sneakin' around there
From farm to farm
He's got a rubberized bag
And a hose on his arm
Lookin' for some rustic co-ed rump
That he just might wanna pump
Lookin' for some rustic co-ed rump
That he just might wanna pump
Lookin' for some rustic co-ed rump
That he just might wanna pump
The Illinois Enema Bandit
Some One day he'll have to pay
Some day he'll have to pay
The police will say, "You're under arrest!"
And the judge would have him for a special guest
Then the D.A. will order a secret test
And Stuff his pudgy little thumbs in the side of his vest
Then they'll put out a call-yooou! for the jury folks
(That's you over there)
And the judge would say, "No poo-poo jokes!"
Then they'll drag in the bandit for all to see
Sayin', "Don't nobody, no no, have no sympathy
Hot soapy water in the first degree!"
And then the Bandit might say, "Why is everybody always pickin' on lookin' at me?"
WELL Did you cause this misery?
Well did you cause this kinda misery?
Well did you cause this misery?
Well, one girl shout, "Let the Bandit be!"
Bandit, are you guilty?
Bandit, are you guilty?
Tell me now, what's your plea?
Another girl shout, "Let the fiend go free!"
Are you guilty?
Bandit, did you do these deeds?
Come on, now
The Bandit sayHe said, "It must be just what they all needneed"s
"It must be just what they all need"
(That's right!)
"It must be just what they all need"
(Over there)
"It must be just what they all need"
(Help me out now!)
"It must be just what they all need"
(That's right)
"It must be just what they all need"
He just be pumpin' every one of 'em up with all the bag fulla
"Don't you know it must be just what they all need"
(That's it!)
He just be pumpin' every one of 'em up with all the bag fulla
"It must be just what they all need"
He just be pumpin' every one of 'em up with all the bag fulla
"It must be just what they all need"
He just be pumpin' every one of 'em up with all the bag fulla
"It must be just what they all need"
He just be pumpin' every one of 'em up with all the bag fulla
"Don't you know it must be just what they all need"
The Illinois Enema Bandit Juice
He just be pumpin' every one of 'em up with all the bag fulla
"It must be just what they all need"
The Illinois Enema Bandit Juice
He just be pumpin' every one of 'em up with all the bag fulla
"It must be just what they all need"
The Illinois Enema Bandit Juice
He just be pumpin' every one of 'em up with all the bag fulla
"It must be just what they all need"
The Illinois Enema Bandit Juice
He just be pumpin' every one of 'em up with all the bag fulla
The Illinois Enema Bandit Juice
He just be pumpin' every one of 'em up with all the bag fulla
The Illinois Enema Bandit Juice
He just be pumpin' every one of 'em up with all the bag fulla
The Illinois Enema Bandit Juice
He just be pumpin' every one of 'em up with all the bag fulla
The Illinois Enema Bandit Juice
He just be pumpin' every one of 'em up with all the bag fulla
The Illinois Enema Bandit Juice
He just be pumpin' every one of 'em up with all the bag fulla
The Illinois Enema Bandit Juice
He just be pumpin' every one of 'em up with all the bag fulla
The Illinois Enema Bandit Juice
He just be . . . hey!
Talkin' 'bout the them Illinois . . .
Illinois . . .
Ain't talkin' 'bout Fontana . . . ha . . .
Ain't talkin' 'bout Po-head-otated . . . ha . . .
(I'll try again . . . )
Potato Headed Bobby
Talkin' 'bout the Illinois Enema Bandit
Yeah yeah yeah
FZ: Wait a minute, this is for Roy Estrada, wherever he'she is . . .
Wanna-wanna-wannanenema
An enema
Wanna-wanna-wannanenema
An enema
I wanna-wanna-wannanenema
Eh . . .
Take it away!
The Illinois Enema Bandit
(The Enema Bandit)
The Enema Bandit
(The Enema Bandit)
The Enema Bandit
Talkin' 'bout the Illinois Enema Bandit . . .
( . . . It can't happen here!)
Juice!
FZ: Awright-awright! Ray White, the existing assistant Illinois Enema Bandit, live on stage here in New York . . . That's it. Sit right down and make yourselves comfortable.
FZ:
One, two, three, four . . .
All right!
I am gross and perverted
I'm obsessed 'n deranged
I have existed for years
But very little has changed
I'm the tool of the Government
And industry too
For I am destined to rule
And regulate you
I may be vile and pernicious
But you can't look away
I make you think I'm delicious
With the stuff that I say
I'm the best you can get
Have you guessed me yet?
I'm the slime oozin' out
From your . . .
Take it away, Don Pardo!
Don Pardo:
You will obey me while I lead you
And eat the garbage that I feed you
Until the day that we don't need you
Don't go for help . . . no one will heed you
Your mind is totally controlled
It has been is stuffed into my mold
And you will do as you are told
Until the rights to you are sold
Take it away, Frank!
FZ:
Thanks, Don!
That's right, folks . . .
Don't touch that dial
Well, I am the slime from your video
Oozin' along on your livin' room floor
I am the slime from your video
You can't stop the slime, people, lookit me go
(Don Pardo:
No, Frank! I am I'm the slime!
I am I'm the slime, I am the slime!)
I am the slime from your video
Oozin' along on your livin' room floor
I am the slime from your video
You can't stop the slime, people, lookit me go
HA HA HA HA HA!
BWAH HA HAH!
BWAH HA HAH!
(Who was that?)
FZ: Thank you, Don.
Don Pardo: Hey, Frank! Hey, I did it, Frank . . . HeyYay, we did it! Didn't we?
FZ: That's right, we did it.
Don Pardo: Yeah, yeah, yeahYay, yay, yay.
FZ: And for our next number . . .
There's a big dilemma
'Bout About my Big Leg Emma, uh-huh, oh yeah
There's a big dilemma
'Bout About my Big Leg Emma, uh-huh, oh yeah
She used to knock me out
Until her face broke out
There's a big dilemma
'Bout About my Big Leg Emma, uh-huh, oh yeah
There's a big dilemma
'Bout About my Big Leg Emma, uh-huh, oh yeah
She was my steady date
Until she put on weight
Ma-ma-ma ma-ma-ma
Ma-ma-ma ma-ma-ma
Ma-ma-ma ma-ma-ma
Ma-ma-ma ma-ma-ma
Emma
(DampDip!
Too-koo-too koo-too-koo
Too-koo-too too-koo-too)
Ma-ma-ma ma-ma-ma
Ma-ma-ma ma-ma-ma
Ma-ma-ma ma-ma-ma
Ma-ma-ma ma-ma-ma
Emma
(DampDip!
Boogedy boogedy
Boogedy boogedy)
There's a big dilemma
About my Big Leg Emma, uh-huh, oh yeah
There's a big dilemma
About my Big Leg Emma, uh-huh, oh yeah
She used to knock me out
Until her face broke out
She used to knock me out
Until her face broke out
She used to knock me out
Until her face broke out
FZ: Thank you!
FZ: All right now, watch this . . . Let me tell you about 'bout this song. This song was originally constructed as a drum solo. That's right. Now, after Terry learned how to play "The Black Page" on the drum set, I figured, well, maybe it would be good for other instruments. So I wrote a melody that went along with the drum solo, and that turned into "The Black Page, Part 1, The Hard Version." Then I said, well, what about the other people in on in the world who might enjoy the melody of "The Black Page" but couldn't really approach its statistical density in its basic form? So, I went to work and constructed a little diddy ditty which is now being set up for you at with this little disco type vamp. This is "The Black Page, Part 2, The Easy Teen-age New York Version." Get down with your bad selves so to speak to "The Black Page, Part 2."
FZ: Thank you.
Guy From The Audience: Yeah, Frank!
FZ: Did anybody dance?
Flies all green 'n buzzin'
In his dungeon of despair
Prisoners grumble and piss their clothes
And scratch their matted hair
A tiny light from a window hole
A hundred yards away
Is all they ever get to know
About the regular life in the day
An' it stinks so bad the stones been chokin'
'N weepin' greenish drops
In the room where the giant fire puffer works
'N Where the torture never stops
The torture never stops
The torture
The torture
The torture never stops
Slime 'n rot, rats 'n snot
'N vomit on the floor
Fifty ugly soldiers, man
Holdin' spears by the iron door
Knives 'n spikes 'n guns 'n the likes
Of every tool of pain
An' a sinister midget with a bucket an' a mop
Where the blood goes down the drain
An' it stinks so bad the stones been chokin'
'N weepin' greenish drops
In the room where the giant fire puffer works
'N the torture never stops
The torture never stops
The torture
The torture
The torture never stops
Flies all green 'n buzzin'
In his dungeon of despair
An evil prince eats a steamin' pig
In a chamber right near there
He eats the snouts 'n the trotters first
The loin's loins 'n the groin's groins is soon dispersed
His carvin' style is well rehearsed
He stands and shouts
All men be cursed
All men be cursed
All men be cursed
All men be cursed
And disagree, well no-one durst
(That's right)
He's the best of course of all the worst
(He's the best of course of all the worst)
Some wrong been done, he done it first
(Some wrong been done, he done it first)
An' he stinks so bad, his bones been chokin'
'N weepin' greenish drops
In the night of the iron sausage
Where the torture never stops
The torture never stops
The torture
The torture
The torture never stops
Flies all green 'n buzzin'
In his dungeon of despair
Who are all these people
That he's locked away up there
Are they crazy?
Are they sainted?
Are they zeros someone painted?
It has never been explained
Since at first it was created
But a dungeon like a sin
Requires naught but lockin' in
Of everything that's ever been
Look at her
Look at him
(Yeah you!)
That's what's the deal we're dealing in
That's what's the deal we're dealing in
That's what's the deal we're dealing in
That's what's the deal we're dealing in
FZ: Thank you!