You Can't Do That On Stage Anymore Vol. 1

(The Main Conversation)
(whistling)
Boy!Woa Wha . . .
Mark: Yeah, uh, I'm just asking Can I just ask some, any, everybody here, did anybody see me puke on stage?
Howard: No, didjadid you?
Mark: I puked on stage.
Howard: You puked on stage?
Mark: I did, man. An' I was singin', sing . . . sin— right in the middle of singin' "Easy Meat" or somethin', an' all of a sudden I started pukin' outta my mouth an' I just put my hand over my mouth, an' I had . . .
Howard: Ohhhh . . .
Aynsley: Ya You didn't get it on film?
Howard: Outta sight!
Aynsley: . . . is Did Get it that in slow motion, it'd spew . . .[...]
Mark: I thought you guys all caught that, man. I got really sick . . . man, what with from, you, know, all that when we were all jumpin' around and stuff . . . Yeah, an' all that scotch and wine. It was Just Which is weird, I only did it for about a second, y'know?
GuyAynsley: Oh!
Mark: It was just like a little spew. I kinda shoved it back down my throat and went on singin'.
FZ: Great.
Howard: Shew. ManPhew . . . YeahMan, that is strange, man.
?: Yeah, it is.
Howard: Ratso Rizzo.
FZ: He saved it because he might be hungry later.
Howard: Eewwww . . . get the big pieces!

(The Other Conversation)
Guy: What are you doin', tourin' the country?
AynsleyJeff: Yeah. We started in with San Antonio last night. Miami, . . . And then Palo AltoAtlanta, Tallahassee tonight, Orlando, and then Jacksonville tomorrow, and then we're doin' EuropeNew York. We have a few days off. We have about twenty ten days off [...].
Guy: That's a nice way to play. [...] pretty very pretty good.
Jeff: My name's Jeff.
Guy: Ah, it's not important who I am. California?
Jeff: L.A., man.
?: How's it going?

FZ: Once upon a time, way back a long time ago, when the universe consisted of nothing more elaborate than Mark Volman . . .

Mark: Oh, thank you, Frank. And don't misspell thatit, that's not Marc Bolan, that's Mark Volman. Hiya, friends! I wanna welcome each an' and every one of yayou, I wanna say to ya you tonight, I feel great. I mean, I feel great! Everywhere I go people are always comin' coming up to me, and they say, "Mark . . . Mark, Mark."

Group: Mark! Mark! Mark!

Mark: "Mark, are you kidding?" Lemme Let me tell you this, friends, I am not kidding. I mean, I am portly, and I am maroon. Well, how many people here tonight can guess what I am?

UhhhhFZ: I . . . don't.

Howard: I can't guess what you are.

Jim: Not me.

Mark: Well, then I'll give you some clues. And the first clue is, I am portly. Does that help?

FZ: Not much.

Howard: No, I don't know who you are.

Mark: Okay, I got one. Clue number two, I am double knit. That helped?

FZ: No, not much.

Howard: What do you mean?

Mark: Ahem; Well then, I have to give you one more clue, I know this is gonna give it away and I hate like damn to tell you this, but clue number three, Ich bin Maroon.

Group: Ahhhh . . .

Howard: You're a Sofa!

FZ: Way back a long time ago, when the universe consisted of nothing more elaborate than Mark Volman . . .

Mark: Thank you, Frank.

FZ: Trying to convince each and every member of this extremely hip audience here tonight that he was nothing more, nothing less, than a fat, maroon sofa, suspended in the midst of a great emptiness, a light shined down from Heaven. And there he was, ladies and gentlemen, the Good Lord, and he took a, he took a look at the sofa, and he said to himself, "Quite an attractive sofa. This sofa could be commercial."

Mark: Thank you, Frank, hiya friends.

FZ: "With a few more margaritas in and the right company. However, I digress. What this sofa needs," said the Big G., "is a bit of flooring underneath of it." And so, in order to make this construction project possible, he summoned the assistance of the Celestial corps choir Corps of Engineers and, by means of a cute little song in the German language, which is the way he talks whenever it's heavy business, the Good Lord went something like this. Take it away, Jim Pons . . .

Jim:
Gib zu mir etwas Fußbodenbelag

Mark: Hey!

Jim:
Unter diesem diesen fetten, fließenden Sofa

Howard: Everybody!

Jim & Group:
Gib zu mir etwas Fußbodenbelag
Unter diesem diesen fetten, fließenden Sofa

FZ: And of course, ladies and gentlemen, that means, "Give unto me a bit of flooring under this fat, floating sofa." And sure enough, boards of oak appeared thoughout throughout the emptiness as far as vision permits, stretching all the way from Belfast to Bogner Bognor Regis. And the Lord put aside his huge cigar and proceeded to deliver unto the charming maroonish sofa the bulk of his message, with the assistance of a small electric clarinet, and it went something like this . . .

Group:
Yeah!

Howard:
Ich bin der Himmel

Howard & Group:
Ich bin das Wasser

FZ: I am the sky and the water.

Group:

Ich bin der Dreck unter deinen Walzen
Ich bin dein geheimer Schmutz
Und verlorenes Metallgeld
(Metallgeld)
Ich bin Unter deine Ritze
Ich bin deine Ritze und Schlitze

Ich bin wolkeWolken
Ich bin bestickt
Ich bin der Autor aller Felgen
Und Damast-Paspeln
Ich bin der Chrome Dinette
Ich bin der Chrome Dinette
Ich bin Eier aller Arten

Ich bin alle Tage und Nächte
Ich bin alle Tage und Nächte

Ich bin hier
Und du bist mein Sofa
(Aiee-ah!)
Ich bin hier
Und du bist mein Sofa
(Aiee-ah!)
Ich bin hier
Und du bist mein Sofa

Eddie, are you kidding me?
Eddie, are you kidding me?
Eddie, are you kidding me?

 

You didn't try to call me
Why didn't you try?
I'm so lonely
No matter who I take home
I keep calling your name
And you
I need you so bad
You're the one, babe

Tell me, tell me
Who's loving you now
'Cause it worries my mind
And I can't sleep at all
I stayed home on Friday
Just to wait for your call

And you didn't try to call me
Why didn't you try?
I'm so lonely
No matter who I take home
I keep calling your name
And you
I need you so bad
You're the one, babe

Tell me, tell me
Who's loving you now
'Cause it worries my mind
And I can't sleep at all
I stayed home on Friday
Just to wait for your call

I can't say what's wrong or what's right
La la-la-la la, la la-la-la la
All you've gotta do-do-do is call me, babe
La la-la-la la, la la-la-la la

You make me feel so excited, girl
I've I got so hung up on you
From the moment that we met
That no matter how I try
I can't keep the tears
From running down my face
I'm all alone at my place

You didn't try to call me
You didn't try to call me at all . . . (Angiedidja, buddy?) didyadidja?
You didn't try to call me
You didn't try to call me at all . . . didyadidja?
You didn't try to call me
You didn't try to call me at all . . . didyadidja?
You didn't try to call me
You didn't try to call me at all . . . or didyadidja?

FZ: Howdy, folks. All right, here's the deal: This is our last show here in London. Gee, it's gonna be tough. Got a few-a few of the boys are sick tonight (cough, cough) but they're still gonna . . . GIVE YOU THEIR ALL. I want to introduce you to the members of the rocking teen-age combo and tell you which ones are sick and what they've got. Denny Walley on slide and vocals, he has, he has an aluminum finger, and we're going to gonna have that removed a little bit later in the show. This is Ike Willis. Ike has a . . . now Ike, Ike is our, uh lead vocalist, our dynamic male vocalist, he's got a sore throat and all sorts of other things wrong with him, he'll never be able to get through the show. The only thing he's got to take care of him is his knitted hat. And of course, Tommy Mars who also has stomach flu, on keyboards. Eh, do you have any other diseases, Tommy? No? He's available. Okay. Ed Mann on percussion. Ed is still healthy. Except, and he told me this backstage, except for his mental health, which has beenhe hasn't been doin' . . . but you have to expect theses things in this kind of a group. And Peter Wolf on keyboards. There's, there apparently is nothing wrong with Peter yet.
Band Member #1: He's got stomach flu too.
FZ: You have stomach flu too? Ooh, my goodness.
Band Member #2: He has intestinal flu.
Band Member #3: The keyboard disease.
Band Member #1: They're coming up here . . .
FZ: The circle is closing in. Okay, Vince Colaiuta on drums. Now, as you can see from looking at Vince, there is absolutely nothing wrong with him.
Band Member #2: Malnutrition.
Vinnie: Hey, c'mon. I'm workin' on it.
FZ: Arthur Barrow, our bass player, he's got a, he's having a lot of trouble, he's been very sick all day, missed the soundcheck and everything, but he's gonna try, he's gonna try really hard. And of course, Sophia Warren on guitar.

Hey! I'm only fourteen
Sickly 'n thin
Tried all of my life
Just to grow me a chin
It popped out once
Yeah, but my dad pushed it in
Tell me, why did he hurt me?
Lord, he's my next of kin
He's a mex-i-kin

I'm lonely 'n green
Too small for my shirt
If Simmons was here
I could feature my hurt
Scared of the future
'N I hope I don't grow
Hey listen, I know nobody likes me
'Cause everywhere that I go
They say no
They say no
They say no
NOAgh!
They say no

Now I am that I'm older
I got a place in the town, babe
I got a chin on my shoulder
'N it keeps growing down 'n down 'n down
I'm horny 'n lonely Scared of the future
'N I wish I was dead
(Mattie told Hattie . . . )
Oh . . .
Somebody tell me
Why am I livin'?
Lord, I wannaI'd rather be dead instead
That's right, I said Shit!
I wanna I'd rather be dead instead
Now dig this . . .

I wanna I'd rather be dead
In bed
Please kill me
'Cause that would thrill me
(Get the picture?) (Mattie told Hattie . . . )
I wanna I'd rather be dead
In bed
Please kill me
'Cause that would thrill me
I wanna I'd rather be dead
In bed
Please kill me
'Cause that would thrill me
I wanna I'd rather be dead
In bed
Please kill me
'Cause that would thrill me
I wanna I'd rather be dead
In bed
Please kill me
'Cause that would thrill me
I wanna I'd rather be dead
In bed
Please kill me
'Cause that would thrill me

One more time for the world!

I wanna I'd rather be dead
In bed
Please kill me
'Cause that would thrill me
I wanna I'd rather be dead
In bed
Please kill me
'Cause that would thrill me
I wanna I'd rather be dead
In bed
Please kill me
'Cause that would thrill me
I wanna I'd rather be dead
In bed
Please kill me
'Cause that would thrill me

I'm horny 'n lonely too!

(Mattie told Hattie
About a thing she saw . . . )

 

Mark: I mean really . . . Really! . . .
Howard: Run, n-n-n-n-n, run, runRant-ran-n-n-nant rant-rant-rant . . . Mark: I mean, you guys, what can I say, you guys are my favorite band. You gotta tell me something, are you here in Hollywood long? I mean, I just . . .

Howard: No, I'm uh, we're recording here in town.

Mark: You're recording?

Howard: Yeah, at the Record Plant.

Mark: The Record Plant. Oh!

Howard: Yeah.

Mark: Bobby Sherman records there. I just love Bobby Sherman, and David Cassidy. Do you know David Cassidy?

Howard: No, I . . .

Mark: Have you ever run into any of the members of the Three Dog Night?

Howard: Joe ShermySchermie once, uh . . .

Mark: Oh! They are my favorite band, they're so professional, I mean, so creative. How about David Crosby? I mean, he's so in, you know, 'nI . . .

Howard: No, I never . . .

Mark: He's— He just knows, I mean, he almost cut his hair, but he didn't, well . . .

Howard: No . . . Listen, do you know how, do you know how to get to the Chateau Mormon Marmont from here?

Mark: Not exactly, is it by the, by the airport?

Howard: No, no, we don't— We have a bus on this particular thing.

Mark: Oh!

Howard: Yeah.

Mark: Tell me one thing, do you like my new car?

Howard: Oh, yeah, it's a PavillionPavilion, isn't it?

Mark: Oh! Not just a PavillionPavilion, it's a Pauley PavillionPavilion.

Howard: Oh! (Bleagh!) Yeah, it's real futuristic, I like the little naked man turn signals. So, uh . . . we gotta get up, y'know you know, and go to the studio in the morning, and then we record for about two weeks and then we, uh, we leave again.

FZ: Ha ha ha ha!

Mark: Oh really? Where do you play when you go from here?

Howard: Uh, let me see . . . Needles.

Mark: Oh, you guys are so professional!

Howard: No, it's nothing . . .

Mark: I mean the way you get to travel to . . .

Howard: It's a . . .

Mark: . . . to all those exotic towns you get to play in, and playin' all these great sounding halls, I mean . . .

Howard: I'm immune to it, you know . . .

Mark: Tell me something. Do you really have a hit single in the charts now, right now I mean, with a bullet? It's That's really important.

Howard: Listen, baby, would I lie to you just to run my fingers through your pubes?

Mark: Don't talk to me that way!

Howard: No, what I was saying . . .

Mark: I am not a groupie!

Howard: I never said you were you're a . . .

Mark: I am not a groupie, neither are my friends here, Jim, and Ian, and Aynsley and Don and Frank, none of us are groupies.

Howard: Nice Pleased to meet all you girls.

FZ: Hi, Howie.

Jim: . . . take for a . . .

Mark: Tell 'em, tell 'em, we don't, we aren't groupies.

Jim: Howard . . .

Howard: Yeah.

Jim: We only like musicians for friends.

Howard: Yeah. That's right.

Jim: You, you know? You understand?

FZ: We still wanna hear your record.

Mark: And we'd still like to come in your bus.

Howard: Yeah? Listen now, on the other side of the record didn't you say that you get off being juked with a baby octopus and spewed upon with cream creamed corn, and that your hairlip hairlipped queen-o bass-playing girlfriend with the crossed eyes and the tits on his shirt had to have it with a hot 7-Up bottle or he went up the wall?

Mark: Oh, Howie . . .

Howard: What's the deal, mama?

Mark: Howie, all that's true, Howie, and sometimes I even dig it with a Jack-In-The-Box ring job. But Howie, we are not . . .

Howard: At last!

Mark: We are not groupies, Howie, I told Robert Plant that . . .

Howard: Plant-uh?

Mark: I told Elton John, I told Steve Stills . . .

Howard: Yeah . . .

Mark: And he didn't even want to ball me.

Howard: I can see that. Listen. The thing is, baby, I want some action, yknowyou know? I'm only here for a coupla couple of weeks recording at the Record Plant with the naked statue in the bathroom 'n stuff, I'm horny as fuck. Listen to me. I want a steaming, succulent, juicy, drippy, ever-widening kind of a smelly, slimy, many-folded sort of in-and-out contracting sphinctor sphincter kind of a hole with a, with a, with a . . . let's see, there's gotta be a way I can put this discreetly . . .

FZ: Ha ha ha!

Howard: Let's say we hop in the aisle over those guys in the blue and fuck, baby!

Mark: Hey, hey, hey! I'm in this band, man! I told you that many times. No matter what goes on. Listen, it just so happens tonight . . . I mean, this is unbelievable. Are you a Virgo?

Howard: No . . .

Mark: I mean it just so happens tonight me and my girlfriends, well we came here lookin' for a guy from a group.

Howard: Ah!

Mark: But just not any guy from any group.

Howard: EhhhYeah?

Mark: We're lookin' for a guy from a group with a dick!

Howard: Well! I can show you.

Mark: But he's gotta have a dick which is a monster!

Howard: Waaah! . . . That's me! You peeked. That's me, you little Westwood Westward Westwood wench nipple queen! Take me, I I'm yours, you hole, fulfill my wildest dreams.

Mark: Oh, oh, oh, anything for you, my most seductive pop star of a man.

Howard: Yeah?

Mark: Picture this if you can . . .

Howard: Okay, I'll try.

Mark: Bead jobs.

Howard: Bead jobs!

Mark: Knotted nylons. Bamboo canes. Three unreleased recordings of Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young fighting at the Fillmore East.

Howard: Oh, no . . .

Mark: Two unreleased recordings of, of the Grateful Dead sitting in with Mel Tormé.

Howard: Yeah! Oh Oh, no, I . . . Oh, man, oh, I, I just . . . I can't stand it! You understand me, baby, I mean, I can't stand it! I can't stand it! I can't stand it! I'M Feet on fire! I'm going home! I gotta see my baby! I GOTTA LOVE YA SO BADI'm gonna love her so much! I can't stand it!

FZ: I, I can't see you, but I know that you're out there. It's that little voice, that same little voice at all of the concerts, of the guy in the back of the room. It's going, "Weh-ne-heh Hehn-weh-ni-heh-ni-heh. Mini-mini-heh mini-hehn." Coupla years ago, there was a guy that used to come to all the concerts on the East Coast, I swore I heard him every night for a month, but there he was somewhere in the audience, an' he would— it's this little voice, and he would say, "Freak me out, Frank! Freak me out! Freak me out, Frank!" OK, here we go! Arf, arf. "Weh-ne-heh." Arf.

Ruthie-Ruthie
Where did you go?
Oh, Ruthie-Ruthie, yeah yeah yeah wow wow wow wow
Where did you go?

Last night at Chatham Center
Pittsburg, Pennsylvania
oh, I'm gonna I wanna tell ya a story
Right after Ruth got through barfin' (hyoahWO-ULK!)
She pushed her tray out the door
Xerox men came crashin' in, said

Ruthie-Ruthie
Where did you go?
(What did you do, now what did you do?)
Ruthie-Ruthie
(Oh yeah)
What did you do?
(Where did you go, go?)
Lookit here!

Ruthie had on a thin night gown
She wasn't feelin' very well, well no no no no
She pushed her tray out the door
Some guy tried to come in
She kicked him in the nuts,
He said, "Oh, oh, oh, oh!"

Ruthie-Ruthie
What did you do?
(Now, what did you do? What did you . . . do, what did you do?)
Ruthie-Ruthie
(Ruthie-Ruthie, that was the best thing anybody could do)
What did you do, now?

FZ: Well, we have another song for you that goes far beyond Louie Louie, Ruthie-Ruthie, or even Brian Brian, this song is so advanced it takes us all the way from 1955 directly to approximately 1957, which is when it should have been written, but actually it was written about 1970. This is a song, we'd like to dedicate this song to Marty, our road manager, who has a fondness for the canine species, and the orifice attendant thereto.

Don't tell me no, Babbette (I mean, Duke)
Don't you take my dreamstear my dream
Don't you break my heart
Darling, we could share a love so fine
Please, darlingdoggy
Won't you be mine (Hi-aye-hi  . . . yah!)

Don't tell me no, Babbette
Can't you see that I
Don't wanna make you cry
You're the only one like this before
Because you, Babbette, are the
One I adore (you I adore)Please, Babbette, it's you I adore!
(You I a-do-oreadore!)

Oh-oh! Oh-ow . . .
Oh, how I want you
I really really want you
I need your love to come guide my way
Oh, oh, oh!
Oh, how I need you
I really really need you
Don't try to bark
And I'll take you to the park
Arf, Arf, Arf!

No, Babbette
Don't you take my dreamstear my dream
Don't you break my heart
Oh, ah ah!
(We could share a love)
We . . .
(We could share a love)
Y'know,
(We could share a love)
Babbette,
(We could share a love)
I know I had to go on a tour with Zappa
That's what Marty said, he said,
But Babbette
Well, y'know, when I need a little bit of your lovin', Babbette
I brought along a whistle around my neck
So I could call ya, Babbette
I said, Whaaa-aaaah-ooooh!
Couldn't Could nobody hear that whistle but Babbette
Oh, it's a strange dog whistle
The only dogs that can answer are Great Danes,
German shepherds, Doberman Pincherspinschers, all Marty's women

You know I said, no, no, no, Babbette
Share my love
Don't make me cry-y
(Don't let me cry)
Oh-oh, oh-oh, oh-oh, oh-oh, Babbette
Share my love
Don't make me, don't make me, don't make me cry
OhhhhhhhhOh-ooh-ow-ow-ow well . . . arf, arf, arf, arf, arf
Please . . .
(this is It's what Marty say to all his dogs)
(FZ: Marty, there's a phone call for you.)
Please . . .

 

Dreamed I was an Eskimo
Frozen wind began to blow
Under my boots 'n around my toe
Frost had bit the ground below
Was a hundred degrees below zero
And my momma cried
You don't really look like an Eskimo
That's right, mom!
And my momma cried again
You don't really look like an Eskimo
I know, mom, but it's a, it's a way to earn a living
And my momma cried, one more time
You don't really look like an Eskimo
Nanook-a, no no
Nanook-a, no no
Don't be a naughty Eskimo, hey!
(Get back home with yo' mama
That's right, answered the lamallama)
Save your money, don't go to the show

Well I turned around an' I said, Ho ho
Well I turned around an' I said one more time, Ho ho
Well I turned around an' I said (just for Vinnie), Ho ho
An' the Northern Lites commenced t' glow

Watch out where the huskies go
An' don't you eat that yellow snow
Watch out where the huskies go
An' don't you eat that yellow snow

Well right about that time, people
A fur trapper
Who was strictly from commercial
(Strictly Commershil)
Had the unmedicated audacity to jump up from behind my igyaloo
(Peek-a-boo)
And he started in to whippin' on my fav'rite baby seal
With a lead-filled snow shoe . . .
([...])

With a lead
(Lead)
Filled
(Lead-filled)
With a lead-filled snow shoe
(Snow shoe)
He said Peak-a-boo
(Peek-a-boo)

With a lead
(Lead)
Filled
(Lead-filled)
With a lead-filled snow shoe
(Snow Shoe)
He said Peak-a-boo
(Butzis too)
(Peek-a-boo)

He went right up side the head of my favorite baby seal
Hit him on the nose, that's right
Hit him on the fin, yes
He went WHAP!
An' that got me just about as evil
As an Eskimo boy can be

So I bent down 'n I reached down 'n I scooped down
An' I gathered up a generous mitten full of the deadly
(Yellow Snow)
The deadly Yellow Snow from right there where the huskies go
(Over by Butzis' room)
An' then I proceeded to rub it all into his beady little eyes
With a vigorous circular motion
Hitherto unknown to the people on this areacitizens of Canarsie
But destined to take the place of The Mud Shark
In your mythology
The vigorous Circular Motion
Here it goes, rub it!
(Hey!)
(Hey!)
(Hey!)

FZ: AlrightAll right, now this is the really exciting part of the show. This is the part I always like the best, because this is where I get to find out what you guys are made of. And you gals, too. This is the part where we have, we are purported to have, audience participation. Now, I know it's a matinee, and y'know, you're probably in a hurry to go get something to eat, but I figure that this little audience participation that we're going to gonna do right now is so totally stupid that it's, well just think of it as an aperativoaperitivo, y'know what I mean? So, okay, everybody, stand up. Stand up now. AlrightAll right, that's very good. OKOkay, a lot of you people are still sitting down, no, don't walk forward, just stand up. Stand where you are. OKOkay, is everybody standing up? Well, most of you are standing up. Okay, the ones who aren't standing up, hey, eat chain. Enforced recreation, live on stage in London. Now, we're gonna do away with the fur trapper now, the guy's been hittin' my baby seal quite a bit, baby seal doesn't look too good. Bleeding from the mouth and rectum, looks terminal. So what we're gonna do, is we're altogether gonna jump up and down on this sunofabitchson of a bitch, now watch me. I'll do the stupid thing first, and then you shy people follow. Ready? Here we go.

FZ: Hi, are you okay?
Angus: Fine.
FZ: Oh, heh-heh.I know . . .
Angus: I love you.
Ike: (give it to him, Joey, he's psychotic)Relative of Joey Psychotic.
FZ: Hello, how ya doin'?
Angus: Can I come up 'n recite a po-impoem?
FZ: No, but I'll tell you what, you can stay there and recite a poem. Here, what's your name? I'll hold it, it's okay, it might break.
Angus: Angus O'Riley O'Patrick McGinty.
FZ: Don't hold it.
Denny?: Joey Narcotic.
Angus: Angus O'Riley O'Patrick McGinty.
FZ: Wanna recite your, uh, poem now?
Angus: Yeah . . .

Angus:
Burnt wind
Heart stinks
Charred man
Burns
Squirm screeing

FZ: Is there more?

Angus:
Pain!

(Yes!)

FZ: Very essential. And now . . . thank you! AlrightAll right, now, as if, as if that weren't enough, watch this. I'm going to do something completely stupid and then after I demonstrate the stupidity of it all you're going to gonna do the same thing and that will sort of bind us together in some sort of cosmic, hands across the water, kind of symbolic, kind of . . . just forget it. Okay? Here we go, watch this . . .
Denny: It's Jumbo.
FZ: It's Jumbo, that's right.
Denny: Jumbo, come back!

Now, you pounce
And you pounce again
Jump on up 'n down on the chest of a . . .
Great Googly-Moogly

FZ: You're gonna do it too, now. Isn't Hey, wasn't that really stupid?
Ike: Are you Sure that isn't 'bounce'?
FZ: AlrightOKOkay, tonight, though, we're, we're adding a new dimension into to this. When we get to the fast part, when you jump up and down on the chest of a, we're gonna vamp for an extra coupla bars, now this is very important, bring the band on down behind me, boys, so they can understand this, when the band plays very quietly after we jump up and down on the chest of a, everybody's gonna recite a poem! Whaddya What do you say? Okay? And I'm gonna be listening. No mistakes. Ready? Now, everybody jumps.

Now you pounce
You pounce again
You jump up 'n down on the chest of a, and recite a poem . . .

FZ: Wait, wait a minute, wait a minute, I think I like the poem better than the jumping. More poetry, please!

Two Guys From The Audience:
Rotten gulls beating
With large rubber sails!
Who cares?
Now it is light!

FZ:
Alone in the hissing laboratory of his wishes, Mr. Pugh minces among bad vats and jerebaumsjeroboams, spinneys of murdering herbs, and prepares to compound for Mrs. Pugh a venomous porridge hitherto unknown to toxicologists which will scald and viper through her 'til till her ears fall off like figs, her toes grow big and black as balloons, and steam comes screaming out of her navel.

(Cakes! Cakes! Cakes!)

FZ: Now, listen. The f— Sit down. The fur trapper was pretty fucked up. He had just been stomped upon and recited to by the entire contents of this audience. And you know what that can do to a guy who's wearing a, a parka. So he gets up . . .

And he looks around
And looks around
And looks around again
And then he says . . .
(And you can sing along if you know the words)

I can't see
(DO DO-DO DO DO DO No no no no no . . . Yeah!)
I can't see
(DO DO-DO DO DO DO No no no no no)
I can't see
(DO DO-DO DO DO DO No no no no no)
I can't see
(DO DO-DO DO DO DO No no no no no)

He took a dog-doo sno-cone
An' stuffed it in my right eye
He took a dog-doo sno-cone
An' stuffed it in my other eye
An' the huskie wee-wee, I mean the doggie wee-wee
Has blinded me
An', Great Googly-Moogly, I can't see
Temporarily
(This is really stupid, isn't it?)

Well, it was at that time that the fur trapper
Remembered the ancient Eskimo legend
Wherein it is written
On whatever it is that they write it on up there
That if anything bad ever happens to your eyes
As a result of
Enforced Recreation Live Onstage In London
The only way that you can get it fixed up
Is to go trudgin' across the tundra
Mile after mile
Trudgin' across the tundra
Right down to the parish of Saint Alfonzo
(What, another poem?)

Guy #1:
I want a garden
I want a garden where the flowers have no flowers
I want a garden where the trees have no leaves
I want a garden where the tree— weeds don't even grow
I want a garden
I want my garden
I want the a garden where there are no colors
I want to water that garden
I'll garden that with my tears
Whilst that garden
was the Busted trees
Was the Busted leaves
Water me with my own

FZ: Sounds like a bunch of kids cakes to for me.
Denny: Oh, you want kindergarten.
Guy #1: Hah-hah . . .
Band Member: Denny strikes!
FZ: Not bad, not bad. What's, what's the title of that?
Guy #1: "Broadmoor."
FZ: "Broadmoor"! alrightAll right. Warren, do you know one called Left Rack "LeFrak City"? Where's, where's Butzis?
Ike: Probably Prob'ly Probably somewhere bendin' over.
FZ: Where is he? Are you . . . Send Malcom Malkin up here . . . Uh . . .
Band Member: He's probably gettin' a hand job.
FZ: Yeah, I know, that's just what I was thinking! Ha ha . . . He's in the lobby getting a blow job. AlrightAll right, sorry, maybe next show, we'll find him. One of these days we'll get him up here. Now, some of you people are probably not very religious, and one could hardly blame you. However, those of you who are religious, and who have been paying money into the church for years and years and are still waiting to get your money's worth, here's a little bit of information for ya (I don't know what you're gonna do with this information, but . . . ), St. Alphonso Saint Alfonzo is, and probably will continue to be, for the duration of this show, the patron saint of the smelt fishermen of Portuguese extraction. Do you know what Portuguese extraction is? Very good. Anyway, in order that you may reach a higher level of conciousness, which is obviously the aim of our show, Ed Mann, who has been working on this little lick all afternoon, Ed, who only, he..he's, he's not sick, he only has bad mental health, Ed is going to play The Big ALPHONZO Alfonzo Motif, let's hear it for him!

That's right, here we are!

At Saint Alfonzo's Pancake Breakfast
Where I stole the mar-juh-rene
An' widdled on the Bingo Cards in lieu of the latrine
I saw a handsome parish lady
Make her entrance like a queen
Why she was totally chenille
And her old man was a Marine
(Oh, cakes!)
As she abused a sausage pattie
And said why don't you treat me mean?
(Hurt me, hurt me, hurt me, oooooh!)
(PeteyPittie! Pattie! Pootie! Bootie-pootie!)
At Saint Alfonzo's Pancake Breakfast
(Hah! Good God! Get off the bus!)
Where I stole the mar-juh-rene

Saint Alfonzo
Saint Alfonzo
Saint Alfonzo
Saint Alfonzo
Ooo-ooo-WAH . . .

Father Vivian O'Blivion
Resplendent in his frock
Was whipping up the batter
For the pancakes of his flock
He was looking rather bleary
(He forgot to watch the clock)
'Cause the night before
Behind the door
A leprechaun had stroked
(He stroked it)
The night before
Behind the door
A leprechaun had stroked
(He stroked it)
The night before
Behind the door
A leprechaun had stroked his
Sma-ah-ah ah-ah-ah ah-ah-ah ah-ah-ah
Ah-ah-ah ah-ah-ah ahhh
(Stroked his smock)
Which Set him off in such a frenzy
He sang Lock Around The Crock
An' he topped it off with a . . .
An' he topped it off with a . . .
An' he topped it off with a . . .
Woo woo woo
Woo woo woo
Woo woo woo
As he stumbled on his cock
(Cakes! Cakes! Cakes! Cakes!)
He was delighted as it stiffened
And ripped right through his sock
Oh, Saint Alfonzo would be proud of me
(Proud of me
Proud of me)
He shouted down the block

Dominus Vo-bisque 'em
Et come spear a tu-tu, oh!
Won't you eat my sleazy pancakes
Just for Saintly Alfonzo

They're so light 'n fluffy-white
We'll raise a fortune by tonite
They're so light 'n fluffy-white
We'll raise a fortune by tonite

They're so light 'n fluffy-brown
They're the finest in the town
They're so light 'n fluffy-brown
They're the finest in the town

Good morning, your Highness
Ooo-ooo-ooo
I brought you your snow shoes
Ooo-ooo-ooo, yeah!

Good morning, your Highness
Ooo-ooo-ooo
I brought you your snow shoes
Ooo-ooo-ooo

Na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-nanook
Na-na-na-na-na-nanook-oh
Nanook
Rubs it
Saint
Al
Al
Fo-fo-fo
Fo-fo-fo-fo-fo-fonzo

Saint Alfonzo really loves it when he rubs it for him
I have seen him rubbin' it
I have seen him rubbin' it
I have, I have a-seen him stroke his weenie
(It was teenie)
Rub it, rub it, rub it, rub it, rub
Nanook rubs it, and he Alfie loves it
Nanook rubs it, and he Alfie loves it
Nanook rubs it, and he Alfie loves it
Nanook's rubbin' it, 'n now he's Alfie's lovin' it
Saint Alfonzo, can you hear us praying to you?
Can you fix my Chevy?
Boy, you're really heavy
Here's the church and here's the steeple
Open up and see the people
Some are kneelin', some are standin'
All the money they are handing
To some asshole with a basket
Where it goes we dare not ask it
Nanook rubs it, and he Alfie loves it
Easter This here basket, really shoves it
Here's your quarter, here's your dollar
Let's play ring around the collar
Hup! Hey, get it now!
(Hey, get it now!
He took all
Your little gifts)

Thank you
Thank you
Thank you
Thank you
Thank you
Thank you
Thank you
Thank you
Friend!

FZ: Denny, Ikey, Tommy, Eddie, Petey, Vinnie, Artie, Sophia Warren on guitar, I forgot your name on poetry but thanks for reciting it anyway. Thanks for coming to the show, hope you enjoyed it, and, good night!

Roy?: Eeee!
FZ: All right, there's a green Chevy, license number 650 BN in Barry's lot. Gotta move it. I repeat, there is a green Chevy, license number 650 BN in Barry's lot.
Guy #1: There's a '54 out there too, Frank.
FZ: There's a what?
Guy #1: A '54.
FZ: There's a '54 what?
Guy #1: A '54 what?
Guy #2: Did you announce the action vertersburgers?
Guy #3: Action vertersburgers . . . !
Guy #1: It's a Ford-uhhhh . . .
FZ: Please, do yourself a favor and move your short before somebody takes it away. They're serving burgers in the back! If you go for burgers, you'll love the burgers here. They have some burgers in this place, when you open 'em up, y'know . . . you hold 'em like this, and go way in the back where nobody can see you. Some people eat them that way.
Guy #4: PhiledelphiaTake 'em back to Philadelphia, Frank!
FZ: What?
Guy #4: PhiledelphiaPhiladelphia!
FZ: What about PhiledelphiaPhiladelphia?
Guy #4: Cream cheese.
FZ: That's it . . .

FZ: Now, if you'll analyze what we're playing here, if you use your ear and listen, you can learn something about music, y'see? "Louie Louie" is the same as the other song with one extra note, see? . . . They're, they're very closely related and they mean just about the same thing.

Plastic people
You gotta go
(Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)

Plastic people
You gotta go-UH!

A fine little girl
She waits for me
She's as plastic
As she can be
She paints her face
With plastic goo
And wrecks her hair
With some shampoo

Plastic people
You gotta go-UH

Plastic people
You gotta go
(Sure gonna miss ya)

Take a day
And walk around
Watch the nazis
Run your town
Then go home
And check yourself
You think we're singing
'Bout someone else . . . but you're

Plastic people
You gotta go
(Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)

Plastic people
You gotta go

Three nights and days
I walk walked walk the streets
This town is full
Of plastic creeps
Their shoes are brown
To match their suits
They got no balls
They got no roots . . . because they're

Plastic people
You gotta go
(Sure gonna miss ya, bop, bop, bop)

Plastic people
You gotta go

Me see a neon
Moon above
I searched for years
I And found no love
I'm sure that love
Will never be
A product of
Plasticity

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 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
A sinister midget with a bucket an' a mop
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 loins 'n the 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
Hey, nobody would disagree with him!
No-one durst
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
Torture time now!

Flies all green 'n buzzin'
In his dungeon of despair
Who are all these people
That he's locked away up down there
Are they crazy?
Are they sainted?
Are they zeros someone painted?
Well, it's It has never been explained
Since at first it was created
But a dungeon just like a sin
Requires naught but lockin' in
Of everything that's ever been
Look at hersher
Look at him
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

Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh!

Well, yeah, well
Oh yeah
She was a fine girl
She could get down wit de get down
All de way down
She do yer laundry
She change a tire
Chop a little wood for de fire
Poke it around . . . if it died down

Oh yeah
She was a fine girl
She go up in the mornin'
She go down in the evenin' . . . all de way down
She do the your dishes
If you wishes
Silverware too
She make it look brand new . . . when she get through
Oh yeah
She was a fine girl
Outa this world

Well, yeah, well, yeah, well, yeah, well
Oh yeah (Oh yeah, yeah!)
She was a fine girl (Fine gi-rl!)
She could get down (Woo-hoo!)
Wit de get down
All de way down (Yeah!)
She do your laundry (I don't like laundry!)
She change a tire (Why, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah . . . )
Chop a little wood for de fire (Ooh)
Poke it around . . . if it died down

Oh yeah (Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah!)
She was a fine girl (Fine girl, hey)
With a lovely smile
With a bucket on her head
Fulla water from de well
She could run a mile
Oh yeah (Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah!)
She wouldn't spill a drop
It'd stay on top
Her head was kinda flat
But her hair covered that
She was a fine girl (Fine girl, fine girl, hey)
Didn't need no school
She was built like a mule
With a thong sandal (Woo-hoo!)
It wasn't no kinda job she could not handle
She could get down . . . (Get do-win!)
Wit de get down (Yeah yeah yeah)
All de way down (Wooh!)
We need some more like dat
In dis kinda town (Well, we . . . )
We need some more like dat
In dis kinda town (Well, we . . . )
We need some more like dat
In dis kinda town (Well, we . . . )
We need some more like dat
In dis kinda town

Three hundred years ago
I thought I might get some sleep
I stretched myself out onna antique bed
An' my spirit did a midnite creep

You know I'll never sleep no more
It seem to me that it just ain't wise

Didja ever wake up in the mornin'
With a Zomby Woof behind your eyes

Just about as evil as you could be

I am the Zomby Woof
I'm that creature all the ladies been talkin' about

I am the Zomby Woof
They all seek for shelter when I come chargin' out

Tellin' you all the Zomby troof
Here I'm is, the Zomby Woof

Tellin' you all the Zomby troof
Here I'm is . . .

Reety-awrighty, he da Zomby Woof
Reety-awrighty, he da Zomby Woof

They said aw-reety
An' they was aw-righty
An' I was a Zomby for you, little lady . . .

I got a great big pointed fang
Which is my Zomby Toof
My right foot's bigger than my other one is
Like a reg'lar Zomby Hoof

If I raid your dormitorium
Don't try to remain aloof
I might snatch you up screamin' through the window all nekkid
An' do it to you up on the roof
Don't mess with the Zomby Woof, no . . .

I am about as evil bad as a Boogie Man can be!

Tellin' you all the Zomby Troof
Here I'm is, the Zomby Woof

Tellin' you all the Zomby Troof
Here I'm is, the Zomby Woof

Emcee: The Mothers Of Invention.
Guy From The Audience: Turn it on!
FZ: It's on.
Mother: That's one of our micsmikes, isn't it? These two?
FZ: "Sweet Leilani." In A. Just pretend it was thirty years ago, and this was the first song of the night for the kind of a band that your mother and father used to go and cream over.

 

Aynsley: Yeah . . .
Girl #1: I would go to Orlando if you, uh, would let me on your plane.
Girl #2: That's what they I said about this.
Aynsley: You gonna gimme a quick knobwolbknob-job, then, on the way down?
Girl #1: Sure.
Girl #2: That's the price.
Aynsley: Yeah?
Girl #1: Sure.
Guy #1: God, he's [Kai's] This guy's crude!
Girl #2: You know, there's always a catch.
Aynsley: She can She'll come down, she can she'll come down. We might as well get it. She'll You'll do the whole band?
Girl #1: Sure.
Aynsley: Yeah?

Be in my video,
Darling, every night
I will rent a cage for you
And mi j-i-nits dressed in white
(teeny-little-tiny-little . . . )

Twirl around in a lap dissolve
Pretend to sing the words
I'll rent a gleaming limousine;
Release a flock of
Ber-herna-herna-herna
Herna-her-nerds

Why don't you
Wear a leather collar
And a dagger in your ear
(Stabbinitin-stabbinitin-stabbinitin-stabbinitin-YOU!)
I will make your nose you smell the glove
And try to look sincere, then we'll

Dance the blues
(Oh yes, we'll dance the blues)
Let's dance the blues
(What a terrific idea!)
Let's dance the blues
(Oh, you'll love it, it's a way of life)
Under the megawatt moonlight

Pretend to be Chinese,
(One-hung-low)
I'll make you wear red shoes
There's a cheesy atom bomb explosion
All the big groups use

Atomic light will shine
Through an old venetian blind
Making patterns on your face,
An' then it cuts to outer space

With its billions & billions &
Billions & billions

(Oh, be)
Be in my video
(In my video)
Darling, every night
(Darling, every night)
Everyone in cable-land
(Everyone in cable-gable-land)
Will say you're 'outa-site'
(I say they'll say you're Will say you're really 'outa-site')

You can show your legs
(You can show the your pretty legs)
While you're getting in the car, then
(In my red hot-rod car, then I . . . )
I will look repulsive
(With my big ears and all)
While I mangle my guitar

Reen-toon-teen-toon-teen-toon
Tee-nu-nee-nu-nee,
Moo-ahhhh

Reen-toon-teen-toon-teen-toon
Tee-nu-nee-nu-nee,
Moo-moo-ahhhh

Reen-toon-teen-toon-teen-toon
Tee-nu-nee-nu-nee,
Moo-ahhhh

Tee-nu-nee—moo-ahhhh
Tee-nu-nee—moo-wah-wah-wah-ooo

After all the close-up shots
Of you in bondage leather
They'll spray an alley with a hose
And we'll escape together, while we then we'll MINE THE HARBOR

Dance de blude agin
Led dance de blude agin (oh, yeah)
Led dance de blude agin
In de middle o' de alley

Let's dance your face
Let's dance your lips
Let's dance your nose
And then we'll dance your sinus
It's definitely a case of
MOO-AHHHH!

 

The dangerous kitchen
If it aint't one thing it's another
In the middle of the night when you get come home
The bread things are all dry 'n scratchy
The meat things where the cats ate through the paper
The can things with the sharp little edges
That can cut your fingers when you're not looking
The soft little things on the floor that you step on
They can all be DANGEROUS

Sometimes
The milk can hurt you
(If you put it on your cereal
Before you smell the plastic container)
And the stuff in the strainer
Has a mind of its own
So be very careful
In the dangerous kitchen
When the night time has fallen
And the roaches are crawlin'
In the kitchen of danger
You can feel like a stranger

The bananas are black
They got flies in the back
And also the chicken
In the dish with the foil
Where the cream is all clabbered
And the salad is frightful
Your return in the evening
Can be less than delightful

You must walk very careful
You must not lean against it
It can get on your clothing
It can follow you in
As you walk to the bedroom
And you take all your clothes off
While you're sleeping
It crawls off
It gets in your bed
It could get on your face then
It could eat your complexion
You could die from the danger
Of the dangerous kitchen

Who the fuck wants to clean it?

It's disgusting and dirty
The sponge on the drainer
Is stinky and squirty
If you squeeze it when you wipe up
What you get on your hands then
Could unbalance your glands and
Make you blind or whatever . . .
In the dangerous kitchen
At my house tonight

Hotel room mo-mo-mo-mom mo-mo-mom
Hotel room mo-mo-mo-mom mo-mo-mom
Ay-ay-ay-ay-ay!

Whoever we are
Wherever we're from
We shoulda noticed by now
Our behavior is dumb
And if our chances
Expect to improve
It's gonna take a lot more
Than tryin' to remove
The other race
Or the other whatever
From the face
Of the planet altogether

They call it THE EARTH
Which is a dumb kinda name
But they named it right
'Cause we behave the same . . .
We are dumb all over
Dumb all over,
Yes we are
Dumb all over,
Near 'n far
Dumb all over,
Black 'n white
People, we is not wrapped tight

Nurds on the left
Nurds on the right
Religious fanatics
On the air every night
Sayin' the Bible
Tells the story
'N makes the details
Sound real gory
'Bout what to do
If the geeks over there
Don't believe in the book
We You got over here

You can't run a race
Without no feet
'N pretty soon
There won't be no street
For dummies to jog on
Or doggies to dog on
Religious fanatics
Can make it be all gone
(I mean It won't blow up
'N disappear
It'll just look ugly
For a thousand years . . . )

You can't run a country
By a book of religion
Not by a heap
Or a lump or a smidgeon
Of foolish rules
Of ancient date
Designed to make
You all feel great
While you fold, spindle
And mutilate
Those unbelievers
From a neighboring state

TO ARMS! TO ARMS!
Hooray! That's great
Two legs ain't bad
Unless there's a crate
They ship the parts
To mama in
For souvenirs: two ears (Get Down!)
Not his, not hers (but what the hey?)
The Good Book says:
"It gotta be that way!"
But their book says:
"REVENGE THE CRUSADES . . .
With whips 'n chains
'N hand grenades . . . "
TWO ARMS? TWO ARMS?
Have another and another
Our God says:
"There ain't no other!"
Our God says
"It's all okay!"
Our God says
"This is the way!"

It says in the book:
"Burn 'n destroy . . .
'N Repent, 'n redeem
'N revenge, 'n deploy
'N rumble thee forth
To the land of the unbelieving scum on the other side
'Cause they don't go for what's in the book
'N that makes 'em BAD
So verily we must choppeth them up
And stompeth them down
Or rent a nice French bomb
To poof them out of existence
While leaving their real estate just where we need it
To use again
For temples in which to praise
OUR GOD
("Cause he can really take care of businessGO HAWAIIAN!")

And when his humble TV servant
With humble white hair
And humble glasses
And a nice brown suit
With a brown suit,
Glasses,
And Maybe a blonde wife who takes phone calls
Tells us our God says it's okay to do this stuff
Then we gotta do it,
'Cause if we don't do it,
We ain't gwine up to hebbin!
(Depending on which book you're using at the time . . . Can't use theirs . . . it don't work . . . it's all lies . . . Gotta use mine . . . )
Ain't that right?
That's It's right.
I mean, seriously,
This television evangelist stuff is
DANGEROUS BUSINESS.
Don't let 'em get ya.
Anyway, listen.
We can't really be dumb
If we're just following God's Orders
After all He wrote this book here
An' in the book it says:
"He made us all to be just like Him," so . . .
If we're dumb . . .
Then God is dumb . . .
(An' maybe even a little ugly on the side)

DUMB ALL OVER
A LITTLE UGLY ON THE SIDE
DUMB ALL OVER
A LITTLE UGLY ON THE SIDE

And if these words you do not heed
Your pocketbook just kinda might recede
When some man comes along and claims a godly need
He will clean you out right through your tweed

That's right, remember there is a big difference between kneeling down and bending over . . .

He's got twenty million dollars
In his Heavenly Bank Account . . .
All from those chumps who was
Born again
Oh yeah, oh yeah

He's got seven limousines
And a private plane . . .
All for the use of his
Special Friends
Oh yeah, oh yeah

He's got thousand-dollar suits
And a Wembley Tie . . .
Girls love to stroke it
While he's on the phone
Oh yeah, oh yeah

At the House of Representatives
He's a groovy guy . . .
When he Gives Thanks
He is not alone . . .

He is dealin'
He is really dealin'
IRS can't determine
Where The Hook is

It is easy with the Bible
To pretend that
You're in Show Biz
(And a-one, and a-two, and a . . . )

They won't get him
They will never get him
For the naughty stuff
That he did
(No no no no, no no no no . . . )

It is best in cases like this
To pretend that
You are stupid
(DUH . . . )

He's got Presidential Help
All along the way
He says the grace
While the lawyers chew
Oh yeah
They sure do

And the Governors agree to say:
"He's a lovely man!"
He makes it easier for
Them to screw
All of you . . .
Yes, that's true!

'Cause he helps put The Fear of God
In the Common Man
Snatchin' up money
Everywhere he can
Oh yeah
Oh yeah

He's got twenty million dollars
In his Heavenly Bank Account
You ain't got nothin', people
(TAX THE CHURCHES!)
You ain't got nothin', people
(TAX THE BUSINESSES
OWNED BY THE CHURCHES!)
You ain't got nothin', people
Thank the man . . . oh yeah

That's right
You ain't got nothin'
And he's they got it all
And your miserable self ass
Is up against the wall
The only thing you have not tried
It's the sport of chumps
And that's SUICIDE

You say there ain't no use in livin'
It's all a waste of time
'N you wanna throw your life away, well
People that's just fine
Go ahead on 'n get it over with then
Find you a bridge 'n take a jump
Just make sure you do it right the first time
'Cause nothin's worse than a Suicide Chump

You say there ain't no light a-shinin'
Through the bushes up ahead
'N we're all gonna be so sorry
When we find out you are dead
Go head on 'n get it over with then
Find you a bridge 'n take a jump
Just make sure you do it right the first time
'Cause nothin's worse than a Suicide Chump

Now maybe you're scared of jumpin'
'N poison makes you sick
'N But you want a little attention
'N you need it pretty quick
Don't wanna mess your face up
Or we won't know if it's you
Aw, there's just so much to worry about
Now what you gonna do?
Go ahead on 'n get it over with then
Find you a bridge 'n take a jump
Just make sure you do it right the first time
'Cause nothin's worse than a Suicide Chump
(Oh, tell 'em one time!)

Now Maybe you're scared of jumpin'
'N poison makes you sick
'N But you want a little attention
'N you need it pretty quick
Don't wanna mess your face up
Or we won't know if it's you
Aw, there's just so much to worry about
Now what you gonna do?

Go head on 'n get it over with then
Go head on 'n get it over with then
Go head on 'n get it over with then
Go head on 'n get it over with then
Go head on 'n get it over with then
Go head on 'n get it over with then
Go head on 'n get it over with then

You're on the bridge;
Scared to leap,
But a girl walks over
To take a peep . . .
She says: "DON'T DO IT!"
But wouldn't you know . . .
The girl girl's got a head
Like a buffalo
With a little red hair
All over the top
An' her breath would make the
Traffic stop
She says "I LOVE YOU . . .
BUT FIRST, LET'S EAT!"
And all you can say as you run down the street is . . .

Tell me you love me
Tell me you love me
Like I want you to
Tell me you love me
Tell me you love me
Girl . . . girl . . . girl . . .
I love you so hard now, I'm cryin' for you
Don't make me lose my pride
I want to wanna come inside
And grab ahold of you
And grab ahold of you

Tell me you love me
Tell me you love me
Like I want you to
Tell me you love me
Tell me you love me
Girl . . . girl . . . girl . . .
I want to wanna feel it, give me your love now
Don't make me steal it
Don't make me steal it
Tell me you love me
Tell me you love me
Tell me you love me
Tell me you love me!
Tell me you love me
Tell me you love me
Tell me you love me
Tell me you love me!

Tell me you love me
Tell me you love me
Like I want you to
Tell me you love me
Tell me you love me
Girl . . . girl . . . girl . . .
I love you so hard now, I'm cryin' for you
Burnin' with fire
I gotta hot desire
'Cause I gotta make love with you
'Cause I Gotta make love with you
'Cause I Gotta make love with you
'Cause I Gotta make love with you

Tell me you love me
Like I want you to
Tell me you love me
Like I want you to
Tell me you love me
Like I want you to

(Yeaaaaah . . . )

( . . . hey!)

Ray White
Tommy Mars
Chad Wackerman
Ed Mann
Bobby Martin
Scott Thunes
Steve Vai

Thanks for coming to the show
Hope you liked it
Goodnight