Halloween 77

Alright!

Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to Halloween #1, 1977!

Patrick O'Hearn on bass, Adrian Belew on guitar, Tommy Mars on keyboards, Terry Bozzio on drums, Peter Wolf on keyboards, Ed Mann on percussion.

And it's my pleasure to announce that out in the recording truck, out in the back, we have Kerry McNabb engineering and we are recording all of this live.

Hope you're ready. Are you? Alright, let's go then!

 

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
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, yeah
The torture never stops
The torture (Oof!)
The torture
The torture never stops
(Ah, scream right along! Ah, I know you can do better than that!)

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 (Thank you!), 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
(Alright, how many of you people want to get tortured tonight? Then you came to the right place!)

Flies all green 'n buzzin' in his dungeon of despair
Who are all these people that he's locked away down 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 just like a sin
Requires naught but lockin' in
Of everything that's ever been
Look at her
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 . . .

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
I'm scared of the future
'N I hope I don't grow
Listen, nobody likes me
'Cause everywhere that I go
They say NO
They say NO
They say NO

Now I'm older
Got a place in the town, babe
Got a chin on my shoulder
'N it keeps growin' down 'n down 'n down
I'm horny and lonely
'N I wish I was dead
Somebody tell me
Why am I livin'?
Lord, I wanna be dead instead
That's right, I said
I wanna be dead instead
Now dig this:

I wanna be dead
In bed
Please kill me
'Cause that would thrill me
(Get the picture?)
I wanna be dead
In bed
Please kill me
(Hey!)
'Cause that would thrill me
I wanna be dead
(Yes, I wanna be dead instead)
In bed
Please kill me
'Cause that would thrill me
(Be dead in bed, yeah)
I wanna be dead
In bed
(Oooh! just as sure as my name is Terry Ted, Terry Ted)
Please kill me
'Cause that would thrill me
(Kill me)
I wanna be dead
(Thrill me)
In bed
(Fill me)
Please kill me
(With some love)
'Cause that would thrill me
(Kill me)
I wanna be dead
(Thrill me)
In bed
(Wah-OW!)
Please kill me
'Cause that would thrill me

One more time for the world!

I wanna be dead
(Yeah-hey!)
In bed
(I wanna be dead instead)
Please kill me
(Be dead in bed)
'Cause that would thrill me
I wanna be dead
(Love my little girl)
In bed
(Gimme some head, hey-hey-hey)
Please kill me
'Cause that would thrill me
I wanna be dead
('Cause I'm only fourteen)
In bed
(Sickly 'n green)
Please kill me
'Cause that would thrill me
(Feelin' really lean
I'm in love, see!)
I wanna be dead
(Too small for my shirt)
In bed
(Feature my hurt!)
Please kill me
'Cause that would thrill me

City of tiny lites
Don't you wanna go?
Hear the tiny auto horns
When they tiny blow
Tiny lightnin'
In the storm
Tiny blankets
Keep you warm
Tiny pillows
Tiny tiny tiny tiny sheets
Talkin' bout them tiny cookies
That the peoples eat

City of tiny lites
Hey, maybe you should know
That it's over there
In the tiny dirt somewhere
You can see it any time
When you get the squints
From your downers and your wine
You're so big
It's so tiny
Every cloud is silver line-y
The great escape for all of you
Tiny is as tiny do
Tiny is as tiny do
Tiny is as tiny do
Tiny is as tiny do

City of tiny lites
Don't you wanna go?
Hear the tiny auto horns
When they tiny blow
Tiny lightnin'
In the storm
Tiny blankets
Keep you warm
Tiny pillows
Tiny tiny tiny tiny sheets
Talkin' bout them tiny cookies
That the peoples eats
That the peoples eats
That the peoples eats
That the peoples eats

And it's over there
And it's over there
And it's over there
And it's over there

 

Alright, folks, it's time for a new song! This is a special song, it's dedicated to . . . well actually, it's dedicated to everybody!

In one, in one sense, this song is dedicated to the ladies in the audience, to the female people, because . . . the women's role in this song is so—how shall we put this discreetly—the women's role in this song is so all-pervasive. However, the main character in this song is a guy.

Now this, this isn't an ordinary guy, this guy is a schmuck! This, the hero of this song, was probably the first guy in town, when women's liberation came 'round, he was the first guy in town to say "Miss.Ms." He probably said something like "Miss, Ms., will you suck me off?" He, he figured that if he went along with the routine, that he would get a little extra mileage out of it, and what this song deals with is the delicate balance between— well, you'll figure it out. The name of this song is "Bobby Brown Goes Down."

Hey there, people, I'm Bobby Brown
They say I'm the cutest boy in town
My car is fast, my teeth is shiney
I tell all the girls they can kiss my heinie
Here I am at a famous school
Dressin' sharp 'n actin' cool
I got a cheerleader here wants to help with my paper
Let her do all the work 'n maybe later I'll rape her

Oh God, I am the American dream
I do not think I'm too extreme
An' I'm a handsome sonofabitch
Gonna get a good job 'n be real rich

Women's Liberation
Came creepin' across the nation
I tell you people, I was not ready
When I fucked this dyke by the name of Freddie
She made a little speech then,
Aw, she tried to make me say when
She had my balls in a vice, but she left the dick
I guess it's still hooked on, but now it shoots too quick

Oh God I am the American dream
But now I smell like Vaseline
An' I'm a mizable miserable sonofabitch
Am I a boy or a lady . . . I don't know which

So I went out 'n bought me a leisure suit
I jingle my change, but I'm still kinda cute
Got a job doin' radio promo
An' none of the jocks can even tell I'm a homo
Eventually me and a friend
Sorta of drifted along into S&M
I can take about an hour on the Tower Of Power
As long as I gets a little golden shower

Oh God I am the American dream
With a spindle up my butt till it makes me scream
An' I'll do anything to get ahead
I lay awake nights sayin', "Thank you, Fred!"
Oh God, Oh God, I'm so fantastic!
Thanks to Freddie, I'm a sexual spastic
And my name is Bobby Brown
Watch me now; I'm goin' down,
And my name is Bobby Brown
Watch me now; I'm goin' down,
And my name is Bobby Brown
Watch me now; I'm goin' down,
And my name is Bobby Brown
Watch me now; the name of this song is "Conehead"!

 

The next song we're gonna do is called "Flakes." This is a song about people who don't do what they're supposed to do, and there's a large concentration of these denizens in the state of California. The problem simply stated is, is is that everybody who moves to California moves there to collect welfare or unemployment unemployment or welfare or both, and so, consequentially, if they ever do find gainful employment, they are never really well-suited to the job that they choose, like for instance, the people who supposedly fix your television set (can't fix your television set), the plumbers don't know one pipe from another, and God help you if you ever try and get your car fixed. This song is for them.

Flakes! Flakes!
Flakes! Flakes!

They don't do no good
They never be workin'
When they oughta should
They waste your time
They're wastin' mine
California's got the most of them
Boy, they got a host of them

Swear to God they got the most
At every business on the coast
Swear to God they got the most
At every business on the coast

Flakes! Flakes!

They can't fix yer brakes
You ask 'em, "Where's my motor?"
"Well, it was eaten by snakes . . . "
You can stab 'n shoot 'n spit
But they won't be fixin' it
They're lying an' lazy
They can be drivin' you crazy

Swear t'God they got the most
At every business on the coast
Swear t'God they got the most
At every business on the coast
(Take it away, Bob . . . )

I asked as nice as I could
If my job would
Somehow be finished by Friday
Well, the whole damn weekend
Came 'n went, Frankie
(Wanna buy some acid, Bob?)
You know what? They didn't do nothin'
But they charged me double for Sunday

Now, you know, no matter what you do,
They're gonna cheat 'n rob you
'N then they'll give you a bill
'N it'll get your senses reelin'
And if you do not pay
They got computer collectors
That'll get you so crazy
'Til Till your head'll go through the ceilin'
Yes it will!

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

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 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
(Damp!
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
(Damp!
Boogedy boogedy
Boogedy bop)

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

And then I said:

Thank you!

Alright, here's something a little bit weirder for you, the name of this song is "Envelopes" and it features the charming voice of Tommy Mars.

You are, are my desire
You come to me
In dreams through a garden wall
It is covered with a lot of dew
And I suppose you're covered too
Just slightly wet
Better yet
You're a stew

You are, are my balloon
You come to me
In dreams through a blue pontoon
It is covered with a lot of dew
And I suppose you're covered too
Just slightly wet
Better yet
Let's go screw!

I'm screwing you
I'm screwing you
I'm screwing you
I'm screwing you
Oh boy, I'm doin' it!
I'm really neat
I'm really neat
You're really sweet
You're really sweet

In and out
In and out
In and out
In and out
It's divine
You are mine
You're so fine

Squat on my blaster
Make it go faster
Squat on my blaster
Make it go faster

 

Disco Boy
Run to the toilet, honey,
Comb your hair

Disco Boy
Pucker yer lips,
'N check yer shoulders,
'Cause some dandruff might be
Hidin' there!

Disco Boy,
You're the DISCO KING!
Aw, the Disco-Thing
Made you think
Someday,
That you
Just might GO SOMEWHERE!

Disco Girl!
You're 'out-a-site'!
You need a Disco Boy
To treat you right
He'll do a little dance;
Take you home tonight
(Leave his hair alone,
But you can kiss his comb)
Aw, kiss that little sucker now!

Disco Boy!
Run to the toilet honey,
Comb your hair
(Thank you!)
Disco Boy!
Shake it more than three times 'n yer playin' with it
(WOW!)
While yer standin' there!

Disco Boy!
Do the Bump every night, 'til the Disco Girl
Who's REALLY RIGHT
Gonna fall for yer line,
'N feed you a box fulla
Chicken Delight!
(Aw, eat it upnow! Eat it all nowup!)

Disco chit-chat; so demure!
Pump that booty all across the floor!
A disco drink
A disco wink
"You never go doody!"
(That's what you think)
"You never go doody!"
(That's what you think)
"You never go doody!"
(That's what you think)

Doody
You never go doody
Doody
You never go doody
(Alright!)

ROCK AND ROLL!

Disco Boy!
You got one more chance
To comb your hair again

Disco Boy!
They're closin' the bar,
And she's leavin' with your friend!

Disco Boy,
That's the way it goes,
So wipe your nose,
'N try it again,
To get a little pussy tomorrow!
(You can do it, I know you can!)

Disco Boy,
No one understands,
But thank THE LORD
That you still got hands
To help you do that jerkin' that'll
Blot out yer Disco Sorrow!
(Know what I mean?)

It's Disco Love tonight
(Disco sucks!)
Make sure you look all right
It's Disco Love tonight
Make sure you look all right
(Alright!)

 

Many well-dressed people
In several locations
Are kissing quite a bit
(Yeah . . . )
Later in the evening
Leaves will fall
Tears will flow
Wind will blow
Some rain; some snow
A fireplace
Maybe a kiss or two
And down they'll go
But that's the way it goes sometimes
You just might find yerself in the clutches of some
Wild Love!

Mama stroked his dinger
Daddy got a stinky finger
In those days of long ago
(Yeah-ah!)
Later in the evening
She'd complain
They'd refrain
He'd go home 'n hone his bone
A tragic case maybe
But also true
I'm sure you know
But that's the way it goes sometimes
You just might find yourself in the clutches of some
Wild Love!

Now'days you get dressed up
'N later you get messed up
But still you're pretty hip
(Yeah!)
Later in the evening
You'll exclaim
She'll remain
You're real modern
She's the same
A frantic pace maybe
But who's to say
Where it will go?

It was the blackest night
There was no moon in sight
You know the stars ain't shinin'
'Cause the sky's too tight
'Heard the scary 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
Actin' weird up here
'N so I figured I might
Just drink a little beer
I said, "Gimme summa that what ya yer suckin' on . . . "
But there was no reply
'Cause she was gone . . .

"Where's those titties 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 (That's right!)
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!

'N then the sucker just laughed 'n said:

Terry:
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?

Terry:
Now, were the cans this tall?

FZ:
Even her boots?

Terry:
Would I lie to you?

FZ:
Shit, you must've musta been hungry!

Terry:
Yeah! This is true.

FZ:
Well, don't they pay 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.

Terry:
Oh yeah?

FZ:
'N I want my beer.

Terry:
Hah!

FZ:
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 . . .

Terry:
Oh yeah?

FZ:
Gimme that paper . . . bet yer mask I'll sign . . .
Because I need a beer,
'N it's titty-squeezin' time!

Terry:
Man, you can't fool me, you know, you ain't that bad . . .

FZ:
Oh, yeah?

Terry:
Why, you shoulda seen some of the souls that I've had
Man, there was Milhous Nixon 'n Agnew, too . . .
'N both of those suckers was worse 'n you . . .

FZ:
Let's make a deal if you think that's true
I mean, you're supposed to be the Devil so . . .
Whatcha gonna do?

Terry: Well, uh, I dunno man, y'know? Maybe you aren't the right cat for the job after all . . .
FZ: Hey, listen . . .

You can have my soul
It's a mean little sucker
'Bout a thousand years old
But once you gets it
You can't give it back
You've got to keep it forever
An' that's a natural fact!

Terry: Forever? Now wait, wait a minute . . .
FZ: That's right!
Terry: Man, now I'm really sure that, uh, I don't think you're the right guy cat . . .
FZ: Hey listen, uh, y'know, I'm the kind of a person— I don't MIND going to Hell so long as I get a good deal, y'know?
Terry: Oh yeah?
FZ: Yeah. I mean, are you the kind of a— are you the kind of a person that will give me a GOOD DEAL?
Terry: I don't know, man, I dont don't know . . .
FZ: Hey look, I'll tell you what: I'll give— I'll give ANYTHING to make this deal. Can we negotiate?
Terry: Ah, well, you know, uh . . .
FZ: Alright, look. Have you— if I go down there, can I take some other people with me?
Terry: T-that all depends, man . . .
FZ: Can we make a package deal?
Terry: Maybe, y'know, uh . . . what have you got in mind, man?
FZ: Well, I was thinking about taking everybody who works for Warner Bros. Records.
Terry: I wouldn't mind having them down there!
FZ: AND their legal department!
Terry: Yeah?
FZ: Can you arrange that?
Terry: Yeah, that can be arranged. What do you want to do with those suckers?
FZ: Hey, well listen, once they get down there, can I— can I arrange some of the entertainment for 'em, y'know, since I've been in the entertaiment business for thirteen years now, I gotta . . . I'd like to— I'd like to show those people from Warner Bros. a really good time, y'know what I mean?
Terry: Yeah, well, uh, what did you have in mind for 'em, man?
FZ: Are you familiar with the device known in the trade as the "Tower Of Power"?
Terry: The Tower Of Power?
FZ: Yeah!
Terry: Man, you're looking at the INVENTOR of the Tower Of Power!
FZ: YOU INVENTED THE TOWER OF POWER?
Terry: You mean, THE Tower Of Power?
FZ: Right!
Terry: The little wooden mahogany based spindle-like object, kinda like a stool, with a pink rubber anal plug in the middle of it?
FZ: Right, that's the thing! The Tower Of Power!
Terry: Of course I know what the Tower Of Power is!
FZ: Alright, I want you to fix up a special matched set of towers of power for all of the people who work for Warner Bros. Records AND for their legal department!
Terry: Yeah?
FZ: Now, I want these modifications . . . now ordinarily, this aforementioned Tower Of Power contains a pink vinyl anal plug.
Terry: Yeah . . . ?
FZ: Well, I want to have the plug on this particular set of towers of power, I want them made out of Carborundum.
Terry: Yeah?
FZ: With a built-in rechargable hand grenade spindle!
Terry: Oh yeah!
FZ: And I want the aformentioned elaborated spindle attached to a— oh, let's just call it 'bout a thirty-horsepower motor so it swivels really nice.
Terry: Yeah!
FZ: OK, you can arrange all of this?
Terry: Oh yeah, man, this can all be taken care of.
FZ: Can you arrange to have a Naugahyde detonator?
Terry: Yeah!
FZ: And while it's— it's exploding, over and over again, up the ass of everybody who works for Warner Bros., can you arrange to have a whole collection of Doobie Brothers, and Leo Sayers albums playing in the background?
Terry: Oh sure man, all at the same time, of course!
FZ: How about Fleetwood Mac? You think you can arrange to have all that stuff going on there?
Terry: SuSure— oh yeah, man, yeah, we can even play them backwards for 'em!
FZ: How about some of Warner Bros. REALLY SHARP really sharp disco music? You think you can play that for them?
Terry: Oh yeah, yeah.
FZ: Well OK then! Do we have a deal?
Terry: Man, you'se—
FZ: Because along with that, all I really need is some TITTIES AND BEER! TITTIES AND BEER! 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: What? TITTIES AND BEER?
FZ: Titties and beer . . .
Terry: Titties and beer?
FZ: Titties and beer, titties and beer . . .
Terry: Oh, no . . .
FZ: Titties and beer, titties and beer . . .
Terry: No, please, no . . .
FZ: Titties and beer . . .
Terry: Wait, oh that's so normal . . . no, wait, hold it, hold it . . . wait!
FZ: Huh?

Terry:
No! Don't sign it then! Give me time to think . . .
I mean . . . hold on a second, boy . . .
'Cause that's Magic Ink!

And then the Devil barfed
'N out jumped m'girl
They heard the titties PLOP-PLOPPIN'
All around the world, she said:

"I GOT THREE BEERS 'N A FIST FULLA DOWNS,
AN' I'M GONNA GET RIPPED, SO FUCK YOU CLOWNS!"

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

The Devil was mad
I took off to my pad
I swear I do declare!
How did she get back there?
Swear I do declare!
How did she get back there?
Swear I do declare!
How did she get back there?
Swear I do declare!
How did she get back there?

Alright! How we doing so far? You guys having a good time?

OK! It's time now for AUDIENCE PARTICIPATION! Now look, this— this is a little bit complicated, gee wiz, I hope you can handle it. All you gotta do—now here's the trick, y'know, you go to these rock 'n roll shows and the guy says "clap your hands," y'know, like that? But of course, what you're clapping to keeps going like that, so there's no challenge, y'know? I want you guys to clap your hands like this no matter what they do, 'cause they ain't gonna be playing what you're doing, OK? Just see if you can keep it going . . .

The name of this song is "The Black Page #2." One, two, three, four!

My baby's got
Jones crushin' love
Jones crushin' love
Jones crushin' love
Well my baby's got
Jones crushin' love
Jones crushin' love
Jones crushin' love
She don't merely fit like a glove
That little girl's got the jones
That little girl's got the jones

She's tryin' to
Grind up my jones
Grind up my jones
Grind up my jones
Well, she's tryin' to (Hey!)
Grind up my jones
Grind up my jones
Grind up my jones
She don't never wanna leave it alone
She can push, she can shove
Till it's just a nub
She can push, she can shove
Till it's just a nub
It's just a nub
It's just a nub

Here she comes
With her red dress on
Steam shoots out
From the sprinklers on the lawn
Eyes be rollin'
On the concrete fawn
The wind can't blow
'Cause the sky is gone
The wind can't blow
'Cause the sky is gone
The wind can't blow
'Cause the sky is gone
The wind can't blow
'Cause the sky is gone

Jones crusher, jones crusher
Deadly jaws, better get the gauze
She's a jones crusher, jones crusher
Deadly jaws, better get the gauze
She's a . . . mmmh . . . ouch!
Hey, look out for them the deadly jaws, y'all!
Aw, can you tell it, baby, OOOUUUCH!

Aw, jaws . . .

Hey!
Do you know what you are?
You're an asshole!
An ASSHOLE!

Some of you might not agree
'Cause you probably likes a lot of misery
But think a while and you will see . . .
(Take a while, you'll see . . .)
Broken hearts are for assholes
Broken hearts are for assholes
Are you an asshole?
Broken hearts are for assholes
Are you an asshole too?
Whatcha gonna do, 'cause you're an asshole?

No no no, yeah yeah yeah
I think
You . . . are . . . an ASSHOLE!

Maybe you think you're a lonely guy
'N maybe you think you're too tough to cry
But you went to The Grape,
Just to give it a try
And Dagmar
(Oh, a beautiful lady)
Was his name . . .
(I trip you to a fine club)
The whiskers sticking out from underneath of his Pancake make-up
(Burned out by faceless vagrants!)
Nearly drove you insane
(I'm talking about the Gilded Grape)
And So you kissed a little sailor
(Just [...])
Who had just blew in from Spain
(Nice balls, Felix)
And You pull the chain attached to the permanently-erected nipples of Jimmy
(How 'bout a coupla rounds on Buddy Love's Tower Of Power)
In a bold salute to pain
(Next to [...]
I'll tell you what's coming up next)
You sniffed the reeking buns of Angel
(What's coming up is Don Pepe!)
And acted like it was cocaine
(Three-hundred and fifty-five pounds of Samoan dynamite)
You were dazzled by the exciting new costume of Ko-Ko
([...])
In a way you can't explain
(You want rubber?)
And so you worked the wall with Michael
(Nice [...])
Which gave your back an awful strain
But you came back on Sunday for the gong shows
([...], velvet or leather)
But you forgot what I was sayin'
'Cause you're an asshole, you're an asshole
That's right
You're an asshole, 'n you're an asshole
Yes, yes
You're an asshole, you're an asshole
You're an asshole, you're an asshole

Well, now you been to The Chest, you've been to The Grape
And now I think you know what you are: you're an asshole

You say you can't live with what you've been through
Well, Ladies you can be an asshole too
You might pretend you ain't got one on the bottom of you
But don't fool yerself girl
It's lookin' at you
(You too!)
Don't fool yerself girl
It's winkin' at you
Don't fool yerself girl
It's blinkin' at you
That's why I say
I'm gonna ram it, ram it, ram it
Ram it up yer poop chute
(Crisco!) (EnemaEnemas!)
Ram it, ram it, ram it
Ram it up yer poop chute
(A tight wet rubber shirt!)
Ram it, ram it, ram it
Ram it up yer poop chute
(Johnson's Baby OilPowder!)
(Meow!)
Ram it, ram it, ram it
Ram it up yer poop chute
(Gobs of Crisco!)
Don't fool yerself, girl,
It's goin' right up yer poop chute
Don't fool yerself, girl,
It's goin' right up yer poop chute
Don't fool yerself, girl,
It's goin' right up yer poop chute
(Ay ay ay ay)
Don't fool yerself, girl,
It's goin' right up yer poop chute
(Ay ay ay ay)
Don't fool yerself, girl,
It's goin' right up yer poooop chute
(Ay ay ay ay ay ay ay ay)
Don't fool yerself, girl,
It's goin' right up yer . . .

Aw, I knew you'd be surprised!

In today's rapidly changing world, rock groups appear every fifteen minutes with some new promotional device. Some of these devices have been known to leave irreparable scars on the minds of foolish young consumers. One such case is seated before you on the spindle of the power of tower Tower Of Power itself, ladies and gentlemen: Little skinny Terry 'Ted' Bozzio, our drummer, recently fell in love with a publicity-photo of a boy named Punky Meadows (Oh Punky!) Lead guitar player from a group called Angel. In the photograph, Punky was seen with a beautiful shiny hairdo in a semi-profile which emphasized the pooched out succulence of his insolent pouting rictus, the sight of which drove the helpless young drummer mad with desire!

I can't stand the way he pouts
'Cause he might not be pouting for me!
(Pouting for you? Punky Meadows? I don't hope so, buddy . . .)
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, 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 . . .

I ain't really queer
(La la la . . .)
But if he ever got near
Steven Tyler would PAY to see!
(Ooo-ooo-oooh . . .)
PAY to see!

Punky's lips, Punky's lips
His hair's so shiny,
I love his hips
I love his teeth, 'n his gums 'n such . . .
PUNKY
(What is it?)
You're an ANGEL . . . you're too much

(The voice of my thoughts
In my lonely teen-age room)
He's been havin' a rash
(No shit)
That keeps the girls away
Skin doom
(Skin doom!)
Is what the doctors say
(And that makes me wonder)

I wonder what 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 . . .
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, I swear

Punky's lips, Punky's lips
Oh! I love his hair while eatin' dunk-y chips
Yeah! I love his 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 NIGHT LONG!
COME ON PUNKY!
GET FUNKY!

I AIN'T QUEER
(No no no no!)
I AIN'T GAY
(No no no no!)
(He's a little fond of chiffon in a wrist array
Wrist array)
(And then he told me now:)
I AIN'T QUEER!
(Hey!)
I AIN'T GAY!
(Hey! He's a little fond of chiffon in a wrist array)

I, Lord, I'm
I'm fo-o-o-ond of chiffo-on
In a wrist array-ee-ay
Oh oh oh oh!
I-I, I said I'm so fo-o-ond of chiffo-on
In a wri-i-i-i-ist array
Come on Punky!
Give me your lips!
Right on my penis-tip!
Hee hee hee hee hee . . .

Patrick O'Hearn, Adrian Belew, Tommy Mars, Terry Bozzio, Peter Wolf, Ed Mann! Thanks for comin' to the show! Good night!

Thank you!

Alright, I know why you guys really came down here.

One, two, three, four!

I couldn't say where she's coming' from,
But I just met a lady named Dinah-Moe Humm

She stroll on over, say look here, bum,
I got a forty-dollar bill says you can't make me cum
(No way!)

She made a bet with her sister who's a little bit dumb
She could prove it any time all men was scum

I don't mind that she called me a bum,
But I knew right away she was really gonna cum
(So I got down to it)

I whipped off her bloomers 'n stiffened my thumb
An' applied rotation to her sugar plum

I poked 'n stroked till my wrist got numb
But I still didn't hear no Dinah-Moe Humm,
No Dinah-Moe Humm

Dinah-Moe Humm
Dinah-Moe Humm
Where's this Dinah-Moe
Comin' from
I done spent three hours
An' I ain't got a crumb
From the Dinah-Moe, Dinah-Moe, Dinah-Moe
From the Dinah-Moe Humm
(Oh hah, ooh ah!)

Got a spot that gets me hot
You ain't been to it
Got a spot that gets me hot
You ain't been to it
Got a spot that gets me hot
You ain't been to it
Got a spot that gets me hot
You ain't been to it
'Cause I can't get into it
Unless I get out of it
An' I gotta get out of it
Before I get into it
'Cause I can't get into it
Unless I get out of it
An' I gotta get out of it
To get myself into it

(She looked over at me with a glazed eye
And some bovine perspiration on her upper lip area
And she said, now listen to this. . . )

Just get me wasted
An' you're half-way there
'Cause if my mind's tore up,
Then my body don't care

I rubbed my chinny-chin-chin
An' said my-my-my
What sort of thing
Might this lady get high upon?

The forty-dollar bill didn't matter no more
When her sister got nekkid an' laid on the floor
She said Dinah-Moe might win the bet
But she could use a little ______ if I wasn't done yet

I told her . . .
Just because the sun
Want a place in the sky
No reason to assume
I wouldn't give her a try

So I pulled on her hair
Got her legs in the air
An' asked if she had any cooties in there

(Whaddya mean cooties! No cooties on me!)

She was buns-up kneelin'
(BUNS UP!)
I was wheelin' an dealin'
(WHEELIN' AN' DEALIN' AN' OOOOH!)
She surrender to the feelin'
(SHE SWEETLY SURRENDERED!)
An' she started in to squealin'

Dinah-Moe watched from the edge of the bed
With her lips just a-twitchin' an' her face gone red
Some drool rollin' down
From the edge of her chin
While she spied the condition
Her sister was in
She quivered 'n quaked
An' she clutched at herself
Her sister made a joke
About her mental health
Until Dinah-Moe finally
Did give in
But I told her
All she really needed
Was some discipline
Then I said . . .

Kiss my aura . . . Dora . . .
That's right, because it's real angora
Would y'all like some more-a?
Right here on the flora?
An' how 'bout you, Fauna?
Do y'wanna?

All right . . . two, three, four!

I couldn't say where she's coming' from
But I just met a lady named Dinah-Moe Humm

She stroll on over, say look here, bum,
I got a forty-dollar bill say you can't make me cum
(No way! Y'jes can't do it)

She made a bet with her sister who's a little bit dumb
She could prove it any time all men was scum

I don't mind that she called me a bum,
But I knew right away she was really gonna cum
(So I got down to it)

I whipped off her bloomers 'n stiffened my thumb
An' applied rotation on her sugar plum

I poked 'n stroked till my wrist got numb
An' you know I heard some Dinah-Moe Humm
Dinah-Moe Humm
Dinah-Moe
Dinah-Moe
Little Dinah-Moe
Dinah-Moe
Dinah-Moe
Dinah-Moe
Little Dinah-Moe
Dinah-Moe
Dinah-Moe
Dinah-Moe

Audience Members:

Dinah-Moe! Dinah-Moe!

Dinah-Moe! Dinah-Moe!

Wow!

Dinah-Moe!

Dinah-Moe Humm
Dinah-Moe Humm
Where's that lady
comin' from

Dinah-Moe!

FZ: Alright! Let's do another one!

One, two, three, four!

She had that
Camarillo brillo
Flamin' out along her head,
I mean her Mendocino bean-o
By where some bugs had made it red

She ruled the Toads of the Short Forest
And every newt in Idaho
And every cricket who had chorused
By the bush in Buffalo

She said she was
A Magic Mama
And she could throw a mean Tarot
And carried on without a comma
That she was someone I should know

She had a snake for a pet
And an amulet
And she was breeding a dwarf
But she wasn't done yet
She had gray-green skin
A doll with a pin
I told her she was awright
But I couldn't come in

And so she wandered
Through the door-way
Just like a shadow from the tomb
She said her stereo was four-way
An' I'd just love it in her room

Well, I was born
To have adventure
So I just followed up the steps
Right past her fuming incense stencher
To where she hung her castanets

She stripped away
Her rancid poncho
An' laid out naked by the door
We did it till we were un-concho
An' it was useless any more

She had a snake for a pet
And an amulet
And she was breeding a dwarf
But she wasn't done yet
She had gray-green skin
A doll with a pin
I told her she was awright
But I couldn't come in

And so she wandered
Through the door-way
Just like a shadow from the tomb
She said her stereo was four-way
Oh God, I would just love it up in her room

Well I was born
To have adventure
So I just followed up the steps
Right past her fuming incense stencher
To where she hung her castanets

I chewed my way
Through her rancid panocha
She laid buck nekkid
By the door, well
And We did it till we were sort of un-concho, obviously
And yes, it was useless anymore
That's right!
Yes, it was useless anymore
I mean, anymore!

One more!

Girl, you thought he was a man
But he was a muffin
He hung around till you found
That he didn't know nuthin'

Girl, you thought he was a man
But he only was a-puffin'
No cries is heard in the night
As a result of him stuffin'

Alright! Let's stuff it in there!

Seriously now folks, thank you very much for coming to our concert! Happy Halloween!

Patrick, Adrian, Tommy, Terry, Peter, Ed. 'Night.