The Torture Never Stops

An Evening With
FRANK ZAPPA
during which . . .

The Torture Never
Stops

Wee-ee-oooh
Wee-ee-oooh
Wee-ee-oooh

Wee-ee-oooh

I might be movin' to Montana soon
Just to raise me up a crop of
Dental Floss

Raisin' it up
Waxen it down
In a little white box
I can sell uptown

By myself I wouldn't
Have no boss,
'Cause I'd be raisin' my lonely
Dental Floss

Raisin' my lonely
Dental Floss
Yes it is!
Raisin' my lonely
Dental Floss

Well I just might grow me some bees
But I'd leave the sweet stuff
To somebody else . . . ah, but then, on the other hand I would

Keep the wax
'N melt it down
Pluck the Floss
'N swish it aroun'

And I will have me a crop
An' it'd be on top (that's why I'm movin' to Montana)

Movin' to Montana soon
Gonna be a Dental Floss tycoon (yes I am)
Movin' to Montana soon
Gonna be a mennil-toss flykune

I'm gonna find me a horse
Just about this big,
An' ride that sucker all along the border line

With a
Pair of heavy-duty
Zircon-encrusted tweezers in my hand
Every other wrangler would say
I was mighty grand

But by myself I wouldn't
Have no boss,
'Cause I'd be raisin' my lonely
Dental Floss

Raisin' my lonely
Dental Floss
That's right!
Raisin' my lonely
Dental Floss

Well I might
Ride along the border
With my tweezers gleamin'
In the moon-lighty night

And then I would
Get a cuppa cawfee
'N give my foot a push . . .
Just me 'n the pygmy pony
Over by the Dennil Floss Bush

'N then I might just
Jump back on
An' ride
Like a cowboy
Into the dawn to Montana

Movin' to Montana soon
(Yippy-Ty-O-Ty-Ay)
Movin' to Montana soon
(Yippy-Ty-O-Ty-Ay)
Movin' to Montana soon
(Yippy-Ty-O-Ty-Ay)
Movin' to Montana soon
(Yippy-Ty-O-Ty-Ay)

This girl is easy meat
I seen her on the street
See-through blouse an' a tiny little dress
Her manner indiscreet . . . I knew she was
Easy, easy, easy meat
Easy, easy, easy meat
Easy, easy, easy, easy
Easy meat, easy meat, easy meat, easy meat

She wanna take me home
Make me sweat and moan
Rub my head and beat me off
With a copy of Rollin' Stone . . . I knew she was
Easy, easy, easy meat
Easy, easy, easy meat
Easy, easy, easy, easy
Easy meat, easy meat, easy meat, easy meat

I told her I was late
I had another date
I can't get off on the Rollin' Stone
But the robots think it's great . . . I knew she was
Easy, easy, easy meat
Easy, easy, easy meat
Easy, easy,
Easy, easy
Easy meat, easy meat, easy meat, easy meat

Easy
She's so easy
Easy
I saw her tiny titties
Through her see-through blouse
Just had to take the girl to my house
Easy
Meat

Beauty knows no pain
So what you cryin' about
Girl
Beauty knows no pain
So what you cryin' about
Girl
Beauty knows no
Beauty knows no
Beauty knows no

Even if yer plain
You could be tryin' it out
Girl
Even if yer plain
You could be tryin' it out
Girl
Beauty is no
Beauty is no
Beauty is no
Beauty is a bikini wax 'n waitin' for your nails to dry
Beauty is a colored pencil, scribbled all around your eye
Beauty is a pair of shoes that makes you wanna die

Beauty is a
Beauty is a
Beauty is a
Lie

But you don't care if it's a lie
'Cause you are such a beautiful guy
(ARF!)
Your head is north, and your feet is south
And you save the rest for Charlie's mouth

Your head is north
And your feet is south
And you save the rest for
CHARLIE'S ENORMOUS MOUTH
ENORMOUS MOUTH

Charlie's enormous mouth, well, it's awright
The girl's got a very large mouth, but it's awright
Her teeth look okay
She must be brushin' 'em quite a bit
'Course her mouth is extra large
'N we can only assume as to how
She's been usin' it

Charlie's enormous mouth, well, it's awright
The girl got a very large mouth, but it's awright
She got lips all around the hole
Where she puts her food in
They call it THE MOUTH
They call it THE MOUTH
They call it THE MOUTH
Which is as good a place as any for a tongue
To include in, that's why
They call it THE MOUTH
They call it THE MOUTH
They call it THE MOUTH

La la la la la la la
La la la la la la la

(Kinda young
Kinda wow . . . )

Charlie's enormous nose, well, it's all white
The girl got a very large nose but it's all white
It once was okay
But she's been blowin' it quite a bit
'Course her friends are extra large
'N we can only assume as to how
She's been choosin' it

Charlie's enormous nose, well, it's all white
The girl got a very large nose, but it's all white
She's got stuff all around the hole
Where she puts her spoon in
They call it THE NOSE
They call it THE NOSE
They call it THE NOSE
And when it finally rots away I guess you'd
Prob'ly drive a truck in . . . they used to
Call it THE NOSE
They called it THE NOSE
They called it THE NOSE

La la la la la la la
La la la la la la la

(Kinda young
Kinda dead . . . )

Charlie's disgusting brain, well, it's all black
The girl got a very dead brain, it won't come back
She used to convey
But then she took an extra hit
'Course her friends are extra dumb
'N they were terribly excited while they
Watched her doin' it

Charlie's disgusting brain, well it's all black
The girl got a very dead brain, it won't come back
She's got dirt all around the hole
Where they dumped her box in
They call it THE GRAVE
They call it THE GRAVE
They call it THE GRAVE
Which is as good a place as any for a
Chump to repose in . . . that's why they
Call it THE GRAVE
They call it THE GRAVE
They call it THE GRAVE . . .

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 your dishes
If you wishes
Silverware too
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)
She was a fine girl
(So fine)
She could get down wit de get down
(Yeah yeah yeah)
All de way down
(Ooh!)
She do your laundry
(Do your laundry)
She change a tire
(Yeah yeah yeah yeah)
Chop a little wood for de fire
(Oo-ooh)
Poke it around . . . if it died down

Oh yeah
(Oh yeah)
She was a fine girl
(So fine)
With a lovely smile
With a bucket on her head
Fulla water from de well
She could run a mile
Oh yeah
(Oh 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
(So fine, so fine)
Didn't need no school
She was built like a mule
With a thong sandal
(Yea-ah)
Well, wasn't no kinda job she could not handle
She could get down . . .
(Get down)
Wit de get down
(Ow)
All de way down
(Yeah!)
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

I got to be free
Free as the wind
Free is the way
I got to be

Maybe I'm lost
Maybe I've sinned
I got to be
Totally free

Our parents don't love us
Our teachers they say
Things that are boring
So we're running away
And we will be free
And people will see
That when we are free
That's the way we should be

I got to be free
Free as the wind
Free is the way
I got to be

Maybe I'm lost
Maybe I've sinned
I got to be
Totally free

Our parents don't love us
Our teachers they say
Things that are boring
So we're running away
And we will be free
And people will see
That when we are free
That's the way we should be

WE MUST BE FREE!
WE MUST BE FREE AS THE WIND
WE WERE FREE, WELL, WHEN WE WERE BORN!
WE WERE BORN FREE, BUT, NOW WE ARE NOT FREE ANYMORE!

BUT WE WANNA BE FREE
AND WE'RE GONNA BE FREE
WELL WE WANNA BE FREE
AND WE'RE GONNA BE FREE

. . . did you know that
FREE IS WHEN YOU DON'T HAVE TO PAY FOR NOTHING
OR DO NOTHING
WE WANT TO BE FREE
FREE AS THE WIND

FREE IS WHEN YOU DON'T HAVE TO PAY FOR NOTHING
OR DO NOTHING
WE WANT TO BE FREE
FREE AS THE WIND

FREE IS WHEN YOU DON'T HAVE TO PAY FOR NOTHING
OR DO NOTHING
WE WANT TO BE FREE
FREE AS THE WIND

FREE IS WHEN YOU DON'T HAVE TO PAY FOR NOTHING
OR DO NOTHING
WE WANNA . . . YEAH
WE WANNA . . . YEAH
WE WANNA . . . YEAH
WE WANNA BE FREE
WE'RE GONNA . . . YEAH
WE'RE GONNA . . . YEAH
WE'RE GONNA . . . YEAH
WE'RE GONNA BE FREE
WE GOTTA . . . YEAH
WE GOTTA . . . YEAH
WE GOTTA . . . YEAH
WE GOTTA BE FREE
WE GOTTA . . . YEAH
WE GOTTA . . . YEAH
WE GOTTA . . . YEAH
WE GOTTA BE FREE
WE GOTTA . . . GOTTA
GOTTA . . . GOTTA
GOTTA BE FREE
GOTTA BE FREE
GOTTA BE FREE
YEAH YEAH
WE GOTTA . . . GOTTA
GOTTA . . . GOTTA
GOTTA BE FREE
GOTTA BE FREE
GOTTA BE FREE
YEAH YEAH
WE GOTTA . . . GOTTA
GOTTA . . . GOTTA
GOTTA BE FREE
GOTTA BE FREE
GOTTA BE FREE
YEAH YEAH
WE GOTTA . . . GOTTA
GOTTA . . . GOTTA
GOTTA BE FREE
GOTTA BE FREE
GOTTA BE FREE

We must say good-bye
There's no need for you to cry
It's better that I tell you this tonight
Well, our affair has been quite heated
You thought I was what you needed
But the time has come, my darlin'
To set things right
I'll be harder than yer husband
To get along with
Harder than yer husband every night
I'll be harder than yer husband
Harder than yer husband
An' I don't want our love affair
To end with a fight

You been like a little angel
How you loved me
An' I appreciate the warmth of your embrace
Well, the world don't need to know
How I adored you
But the time has come, my darlin'
T' tell you this face to face . . .
I'll be harder than yer husband
To get along with
Harder than yer husband every night
Well, I'll be harder than yer husband
Harder than yer husband
An' I don't want our love affair
To end with a fight

So it's adios, adios, my little darlin'
(Adios my little darlin' . . . )
Keep that hankie that I gave you for when you cry
There are things that trouble me
And I'm sure that you must see
That it breaks my heart the same as yours
When we say good-bye

Harder than yer husband
Harder than yer . . . much, much, much
Harder than yer husband
Harder than yer . . . much, much, much
Harder than yer husband
Harder than yer . . . much, much, much
Harder than yer husband
Harder than yer . . .

Bamboozled by love, love, love
Oh lord, the shit done hit the fan
Bamboozled by love, love, love, love
Oh lord, the shit done hit the fan, well
Oh, the way that little girl been carryin' on
I swear I just don't understand, yeah
Well, you know I treat her nice and kind
Just the way no other lover can
Well, lord know I treat her nice and kind
Just the way no other lover can, yes I do, yeah
But you know what?
When I got home the other day
And she was suckin' off some other man
And I [...], listen

I ain't the type for beggin'
Lord knows I ain't the type to plead
If she don't change her evil ways
I'm gonna make that little girl bleed
She can scream, lord, she can holler
Bang her head all along that wall
If she don't give me what I want
She ain't gonna have no head at all

Bamboozled by love, love
Oh, she fooled around too long, yeah
Bamboozled by love
Oh, she fooled around too long, yes she did
Now I am mad and gettin' meaner
'Cause I am here, oh, she is gone, well
And the reason you have not seen her
'Cause she is underneath the lawn, yeah
Oh, play the blues

Now look here
I ain't the type for beggin'
Lord knows I ain't the type to plead
If she don't change those evil ways
I'm gonna make that woman bleed
She can scream, lord, she can holler
Bang her head all along the wall
If she don't give me what I want
She ain't gonna have no head at all

Bamboozled by love, love
Oh, lord, she done fooled around too long, yeah, yeah
Bamboozled by love, ow oh
Oh, she fooled around too long, yes she did
Now I am mad and gettin' meaner
'Cause I am here, oh, she is gone, yes she is
Yeah, and the reason you have not seen her
'Cause she is underneath that lawn
Lord no

Turn turn
Turn turn
We're turning again
Turn turn
Turn turn
We're turning again

We're so young and happy
And we know where it's at
(It's over there, over there,
Over there, over there
And under here also)
We're never wrong about nothing
And we look good
We never ever have to worry
We're always in a hurry
To convince ourselves that what we are
Is really very groovy
If we believe what's in the papers
And the magazines that define our folklore
We can never laugh
At who or what we think we are
Or even what we think
We sorta oughta be
We are totally empty
(Totally empty)
And our lives are really useless
So what the fuck?
We ain't got no sense of humor
We got nothing left
To laugh about
Including ourselves

Turn turn
Turn turn
We're turning again
Turn turn
Turn turn
We're turning again

(Mellow yellow
Mellow yellow)

They were mellow
They were yellow
They were wearing smelly blankets
They were DONOVAN fans
(HU-UR-DE-EE
GU-UR-DE-EE)
They walked around
With stupid flowers
In their hair and everywhere
They tried to stuff 'em in the guns
Of all the cops and other servants of the law
Who tried to push 'em around
And later mowed 'em down
But they were full of all that shit
That they believed in
So what the fuck?
(WHAT THE FUCK?)
They would tighten up their headbands
On the weekend they get loaded
When they came to town
They walked around in GREENWICH VILLAGE
To buy posters they could hang up
In their smelly little secret
Black light bedrooms
On LONG-ISLAND
Screamin': "JIMI COME BACK!"
Come back and regulate my fuzz-tone
Your HAZE was so PURPLE
And your AXIS was BOLD AS LOVE
JIMI FEED BACK
Come back and feed back on my knapsack
You can feed back the fuzz tone from your WAH-WAH
While you bend down
And set your stuff on FIRE

Turn turn
Turn turn
We're turning again
Turn turn
Turn turn
We're turning again

We can turn it around
We can go back in time
We can do it all again
Through the canyons of your mind
On the EVE O' DESTRUCTION
We can act like we are something really special
We can get in the bath-tub
With that other guy JIM
And make him be more careful
We can visit Big Mama
And whap her on the back
When she eats her sandwich
(LA LA LA LA)
We can take care of Janis
When she gets so depressed
She can't take it no more
We can laugh at Keith Moon's jokes
(HA HA HA HA HA)
And the colour TV
(HA HA)
He threw out de window
From de second floor!
(OHHHHHH!)
Everybody come back
No one can do it like you used to
If you listen to the radio
And what they play today
You can tell right away:
All those assholes really need you!

Turn turn
Turn turn
We're turning again
Turn turn
Turn turn
We're turning again

Turn turn
Turn turn
We're turning again
Turn turn
Turn turn
We're turning again

 

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 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
They got the Flakes

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 lyin' 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

Well, I asked just as nice as I could
Oh, if my job would
Well, somehow be finished by Friday
Well, the whole damn weekend
Came 'n went there, Frankie
(Wanna buy some acid, Bob?)
No. But you know what? Well they didn't do nothin'
But then they charged me double for Sunday

Well, you know, no matter what you do,
They gonna cheat 'n rob you
'N then they'll send you a bill
It's gonna get your senses reelin'
And if you do not pay
They got computer collectors
That'll get you so crazy
'Til your head'll go through th' ceilin'
Oh, yes it will!

I'm a moron 'n this is my wife
She's frosting a cake
With a paper knife
All what we got here's
American made
It's a little bit cheesey,
But it's nicely displayed
Well we don't get excited when it
Crumbles 'n breaks
We just get on the phone
And call up some Flakes
They rush on over
'N wreck it some more
'N we are so dumb
They're linin' up at our door
Well, the toilet went crazy
Yesterday afternoon
The plumber he says
"Never flush a tampoon!"
This great information
Cost me half a week's pay
And the toilet blew up
Later on the next day ay-eee-ay
Yeah ay-eee-ay
Yeah ay-eee-ay
Yeah ay-eee-ay
Blew up the next day
WOO-OOO

We are millions 'n millions
We're coming to get you
We're protected by unions
So don't let it upset you
Can't escape the conclusion
It's probably God's Will
That civilization
Will grind to a standstill
And we are the people
Who will make it all happen
While yer children are sleepin',
Yer puppy is crappin'
You might call us Flakes
Or something else you might coin us
We know you're so greedy
That you'll probably join us

We're coming to get you, we're coming to get you
We're coming to get you, we're coming to get you
We're coming to get you, we're coming to get you
We're coming to get you, we're coming to get you

We're coming to get you, we're coming to get you
We're coming to get you, we're coming to get you
We're coming to get you, we're coming to get you
We're coming to get you, we're coming to get you

Here we are!

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

Some of you might not agree
'Cause you probably likes a lot of misery
But think a while and you will see . . .
Broken hearts are for assholes
Broken hearts are for assholes
And you're an asshole
Broken hearts are for assholes
And you're an asshole too
That's right!
Whatcha gonna do, 'cause you're an asshole . . .

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

Maybe you think you're a lonely guy
'N maybe you think you're too tough to cry
So you went to The Grape,
Just to give it a try
And Dagmar
Was his name . . .
The whiskers sticking out from underneath of his Pancake make-up
Nearly drove you insane
And so you kissed a little sailor
Who had just blew in from Spain
You pulled the chain attached to the permanently-erected nipples of Jimmy
In a bold salute to pain
You sniffed the reeking buns of Angel
And acted like it was cocaine
You were dazzled by the exciting new costume of Ko-Ko
In a way you can't explain
And so you worked the wall with Michael
Which gave your back an awful strain
But you came back on Sunday for the gong shows
But you forgot what I was sayin'
'Cause you're an asshole, you're an asshole
That's right
You're an asshole, you're an asshole
Yes, yes
You're an asshole, you're an asshole
That's right
You're an asshole, you're an asshole

Well, you been to The Grape, and been to The Chest
Now I think you know what you are: you're an asshole
A what? An ASSHOLE! You're right!

You say you can't live with what you've been through
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 winkin' at you
Don't fool yerself girl
It's blinkin' at you
Don't fool yerself girl
It's wankin' at you
That's why I say
I'm gonna ram it, ram it, ram it
Ram it up yer poop chute
(Corn hole)
Ram it, ram it, ram it
Ram it up yer poop chute
(Fist fuck)
Ram it, ram it, ram it
Ram it up yer poop chute
(Wrist-watch: Crisco)
Ram it, ram it, ram it
Ram it 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
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 . . .

Do you know what you are?
You are what you is
You is what you am
(A cow don't make ham . . . )
You ain't what you're not
So see what you got
You are what you is
An' that's all it 'tis

A foolish young man
From a middle class fam'ly
Started singin' the blues
'Cause he thought it was manly
Now he talks like the Kingfish
("Saffiiiee!")
From Amos 'n Andy
("Holy mack'l dere!")
He tells you that chitlins . . .
(Chitlins!)
Well, they taste just like candy
He thinks that he's got
De whole thang down
From the Nivea Lotion
To de Royal Crown

Do you know what you are?
You are what you is
You is what you am
(A cow don't make ham . . . )
You ain't what you're not
So see what you got
You are what you is
An' that's all it 'tis

A foolish young man
Of the Negro Persuasion
Devoted his life
To become a caucasian
He stopped eating pork
He stopped eating greens
He traded his dashiki
("Uhuru!")
For some Jordache Jeans
He learned to play golf
An' he got a good score
Now he says to himself
"I AIN'T NO NIGGER NO MORE . . . HEY! HEY! HEY!"

Who is who
(I don't know . . . )
'N what is what
(Somethin' I just don't know . . . )
'N why is this
(Tell me now . . . )
Appropriot
(That's a funny pronunciation if'n ever I heard one . . . )
If you don't like
(Where'd you get that word?)
What you has got
(Appropriot? The word is not . . . )
Drop it in the dirt
(Drop it yeah . . . )
'N let it rot
(I can smell it now . . . )
Someone else
(Here de come, here de come . . . )
Will surely come
(I told you he was comin')
'N pick it up
(Yeah, yeah, it's right!)
'Cause he wants some
(An' he wants it for free . . . )
And when one day
(There will come a day . . . )
You wonder who
(I wonder too . . . )
You used to was
(Who I was anyway . . . )
'N what you do
(I, I used to work at the post office . . . )
You'll scratch your head
(But I don't wanna un-do my doo . . . )
'N look around
(Just to see what's goin' on . . . )
But what you lost
(Can't seem to find it . . . )
Will not be found
(A Mercedes Benz . . . )

Do you know what you are?
(I know . . . )
You are what you is
(I'm the kinda guy . . . )
You is what you am
(That ought to be drivin' . . . )
A cow don't make a ham
(A four-fifty SLC . . . )
You ain't what you're not
(A big ol' red one . . . )
So see what you got
(With some golf clubs stickin' out de trunk . . . )
You are what you is
(I'm gwine down to de links on Saturday mornin' . . . )
An' that's all it is
(Gimme a five-dollar bill . . . )
YOU ARE WHAT YOU IS
(And an overcoat too . . . )
AND THAT'S ALL IT IS
(Where's my waitress? Yeah . . . )
YOU ARE WHAT YOU IS
(Robbie, take me to Greek Town . . . )
AN THAT'S ALL IT IS
(I'm harder than yer husband; harder than yer husband . . . )
YOU ARE WHAT YOU IS
(Goin' down to White Street, to the Mudd Club y'all . . . )
AN THAT'S ALL IT IS
(Goin' down 'n work the wall 'n work the pipe . . . )
YOU ARE WHAT YOU IS
('N work the floor 'n work the wall . . . )
AN THAT'S ALL IT IS
(Some more . . . )

Here we are, at the Mudd Club, y'all . . .
I hope you enjoy yourself, 'cause the show is about
To begin . . .

Hey, they're really dancin'
They're on auto-destruct
On the floor
On the pipe
Bouncin' off-a the wall

Hey, the people here are really
Tearin' it up
On the side
In the back
By the front of the stage

They ain't really crazy
You can take it from me
I should know
'Cause I go
Every time I'm in town

If you never tried it
Lemme straighten you out
It's the best kinda place
To unfasten yerself

MUDD CLUB
All the way downtown
MUDD CLUB
They ain't messin' around
MUDD CLUB
Just turn to the left 'n look around
Because it's there somewhere
If you ain't found it, better
Hurry up
The folks down there's on auto-destruct
And so can you be too
(The fact of the matter,
it's made for you . . . )

Try it on a Saturday 'bout four o'clock in the mornin'
Or even on a Monday at midnight
When there's just a few of them
Fabulous Poodles
Doin' the Peppermint Twist for real
In a black sack dress with nine inch heels
And then a guy with a blue mohawk comes in
In Serious Leather . . .
(And all the rest of whom for which
To whensonever of partially indeterminate
Bio-chemical degradation
Seek the path to the sudsy yellow nozzle
Of their foaming nocturnal
Parametric digital whole-wheat inter-faith
Geo-thermal terpsichorean ejectamenta)
In Serious Leather . . .
Serious Chains
Serious Clothing
From when they come downtown
From the ruins of Studio '54
To twist 'n frugg
In an arrogant gesture
To the best of what the 20th Century has to offer

Al Malkin's down there right now,
Looking for a virgin with nice breath . . .
(Why, maybe it's you . . .
And you don't even know it!)

Hey, they're really dancin'
They're on auto-destruct
On the floor
On the pipe
Bouncin' off-a the wall

Hey, the people here are really
Tearin' it up
On the side
In the back
By the front of the stage

They ain't really crazy
You can take it from me
I should know
'Cause I go
Every time I'm in town

If you never tried it
Lemme straighten you out
It's the best kinda place
To unfasten yerself

While you WORK THE WALL
WORK THE FLOOR
WORK THE PIPE
IN SERIOUS PAIN . . .

Some take the bible
For what it's worth
When it says that the meek
Shall inherit the Earth
Well, I heard that some sheik
Has bought New Jersey last week
'N you suckers ain't gettin' nothin'

Is Hare Rama really wrong
If you wander around
With a napkin on
With a bell on a stick
An' your hair is all gone . . .
(The geek shall inherit nothin')

You say yer life's a bum deal
'N yer kinda up against the wall . . .
Well, people, you ain't even got no kinda
Deal at all
'Cause what they do
In Washington
They just takes care of NUMBER ONE
An' NUMBER ONE ain't YOU
You ain't even NUMBER TWO
That's right

Those Jesus Freaks
Well, they're friendly but
The shit they believe
Has got their minds all shut
An' they don't even care
When the church takes a cut
Ain't it bleak when you got so much nothin'
(So whaddya do? Hey!)
Eat that pork
Eat that ham
Laugh till ya choke
On Billy Graham
Moses, Aaron 'n Abraham . . .
They're all a waste of time
'N it's your ass that's on the line
(IT'S YOUR ASS THAT'S ON THE LINE)

Do what you wanna
Do what you will
Just don't mess up
Your neighbor's thrill
'N when you pay the bill
Kindly leave a little tip
And help the next poor sucker
On his one way trip . . .
SOME TAKE THE BIBLE . . .
(Aw gimme a half a dozen for the hotel room!)

Ay!

Hotel room mo-mo-mo-mom mo-mo-mom
Hotel room mo-mo-mo-mom mo-mo-mom
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
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
(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
For mama in
For souvenirs: two ears (Get Down!)
Not his, not hers (but what the hey?)
The Good Book says:
"It's 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 . . .
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 go Hawaiian!")

And when his humble TV servant
With a brown suit, glasses
Maybe a blonde wife who takes phone calls
Tells us 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!
Ain't that right?
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

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'
They got it all
And your miserable 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
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
Go ahead on 'n get it over with then
Go ahead on 'n get it over with then
Go ahead on 'n get it over with then
Go ahead on 'n get it over with then
Go ahead on 'n get it over with then
Go ahead 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 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 . . .

Jumbo, go away
Jumbo, go away
Jumbo, go away
Jumbo leave me alone
Get your head off my bone
I wanna go home
(I'm hungry . . . )

Jumbo lighten up
Jumbo lighten up
Jumbo lighten up
Jumbo give me a break
Lighten up on my snake
That's all I can take
(Feed me!)

It seems I can't explain
The way I feel about you
(Robbie, take the camera away!)
You just don't understand
You're from Kalamazoo . . .
(No!)

You got to realize
Our little romance deal
Will not materialize
Into a thing that you'd call REAL
(I think I have worms . . . )

Jumbo gotta go
Jumbo gotta go
Jumbo gotta go
Jumbo better get back
Or your eye will get black
When I give you a smack
(No, Denny, don't hit me!)

Jumbo don't you cry
Jumbo don't you cry
Jumbo don't you cry
Jumbo this is good-bye
I ain't gonna lie
So wash up your pie

Wash up your pie
(There are three things that smell like fish!)
(Oh, really? But what are they?)
Wash up your pie
(One of them is fish . . . )
(Well, one of them is fish, what of the other two?)
Wash up your pie
(The other two . . . )
(What d'you mean the other two?)
Wash up your pie
(Are growing on you . . . )
(No! No no no . . . )

His name is Stevie Vai,
And he's a crazy guy
Last November, I recall,
He needed a spanking

He decided then
A female specimen
Would be exciting for a night
To give him a spanking

Laurel was her name
She came to Notre Dame
He told me just the other day
He oughta be thanking
Her for the spanking

She was large and soft
And she beat him off
Made him drool upon his dork
And gave it a wanking
After the spanking

Hair brush!
Oh! What a hair brush!
(It's not that he requires grooming!
Guys with light blue hair never do!)

Then did she exclaim:
"There's another game
That we can play with this device,
And then a banana!"

It was slightly green
Vapors in between
Rising up to fill the room
And cook the banana

She said it was dry
"Stevie won't you try
To drool a little drool on it
And grease the banana"

Later in the dawn,
Laurel carried on
She got right up and dressed herself and
Ate the banana

Okay, calm down now. We are now going to perform our traditional Halloween number.

Flies all green 'n buzzin' in his dungeon of despair
Prisoners grumble and piss their clothes and scratch their matted hair
A tiny little 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 'n 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 little midget with a bucket an' a mop
A sinister little 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, that's right
All men be cursed
All men be cursed
All men be cursed
And disagree, that's right, well hey, 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
That's right!

Flies all green 'n buzzin' in his dungeon of despair
Who are all those people that he's locked away down there
Are they crazy?
Are they sainted?
Are they zeros someone painted?
Well, it's 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

Happy Halloween!

Zappa! Zappa! Zappa! ZAPPA!

Thank you. [...] once. I got my hands full, I can't do it. Okay. What? You want this? No way. Uh-huh, cute. Who is that guy? Do I keep this? I keep this? Alright.

We have a song for you now from 200 Motels.

Lord, have mercy on the hippies and faggots
And the dykes and the weird little children they grow

Thanks for coming to the show tonight. Hope you enjoyed it. Don't throw stuff on the stage. Ray White. Tommy Mars. Scott Thunes. Chad Wackerman. Ed Mann. Bobby Martin. Steve Vai. Good night.

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 . . .
He'd just be tyin' 'em up
(They'd be all bound down!)
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

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
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
One day he'll have to pay
Some day he'll have to pay
The police will say, "You're under arrest!"
And then the judge would have him for a special guest
And then the D.A. will order a secret test
Stuff his pudgy little thumbs in the side of his vest
And then they'll put out a call for the jury folks
And then the judge would say, "No poo-poo jokes!"
They'll drag in the bandit for all to see,
Sayin', "Don't nobody have no sympathy . . .
HOT SOAPY WATER in the THIRD DEGREE!"
And the Bandit might say . . . (Ha ha . . . )

DID YOU CAUSE (What is it, Ray?) THIS MISERY?
(You see a good one out there?)
WELL DID YOU CAUSE THIS MISERY?
WELL DID YOU CAUSE THIS MISERY?
Oh, one girl shout: "Let the Bandit be!"

BANDIT ARE YOU GUILTY?
TELL ME, DID YOU DO THESE DEEDS?
Another girl shout: "Woa, let the fiend go free!"

BANDIT ARE YOU GUILTY?
TELL ME, DID YOU DO THESE DEEDS?
You know what he said?
"It must be just what they all need . . . "
"It must be just what they all need . . . "
"It must be just what they all need . . . "
(I believe that)
"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 . . . "
Well, 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 . . . "
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

The Illinois . . .
Illinois . . .
Ain't talkin' 'bout Fontana . . .
Ain't talkin' to Po-headed Bobby . . .
Talkin' 'bout the Illinois . . .
Illinois . . .
Enema Bandit
Juice . . .

Zappa! Zappa! ZAPPA!

Editorial Supervisor
FRANK ZAPPA

Music Performed By

FRANK ZAPPA
Guitar, vocal

RAY WHITE
Guitar, vocal

TOMMY MARS
Keyboards, vocal

SCOTT THUNES
Bass, vocal

CHAD WACKERMAN
Drums

ED MANN
Percussion, vocal

BOBBY MARTIN
Keyboards, sax, vocal

STEVE VAI
Guitar, vocal

Produced by
BILL BOGGS
RICHARD BAKER

Directed by
CLARK SANTEE

Lighting Director
JIM TETLOW

Associate Producer
KAREN McLAUGHLIN

Music Associate
DEE SANTEE

Technical Supervisor
MARK SCHUBIN

Engineering Consultant
MALACHY WIENGES

Production Manager
MARTY MALONEY

Stage Manager
KEITH KEVAN

Engineer-In-Charge
ED LEVINE

Technical Director
PAUL STIEGELBAUER

Music Audio Mixer
MARK PINSKE

Production Audio Mixer
MIKE SHOSKES

Audio Assistant
MEL BECKER

Video
PAUL RANIERI

Camera
JUAN BARRERA
PETER BLANK
JOHN FEHER
ROB LEACOCK
MIKE LIEBERMAN
JAKE OSTROFF

Videotape Operator
RENNIE DICUIA

Gaffer
CHIP FOODY

Utility
RICK ANDERSON
ANDY BURNAFORD

Electronic Graphics
BARRY FIALK

Production Assitants
SABINA BARCH
SUSAN FRANKS

Production Facilities
UNITEL PRODUCTION
SERVICES, INC.

Videotape Editor
TERRY GREENE

Assistant Videotape Editor
RON MENZIES

For
Intercontinental
Absurdities

BENNETT GLOTZER
Associate Producer

ALAN SANTOS
Production Manager

COY FEATHERSTONE
Lighting Director

MARK PINSKE
GEORGE DOUGLAS
BOB STONE
Sound

CHUCK ELDRIDGE
On Jack Daniels

DAVID ROBB
Towel Boy And Kosher Guitars

LARRY GRIFFITH
Industrial Tenderness

THOMAS NORDEGG
Gadgets

JOHN SMOTHERS
Iron Sausage

WARTOKE CONCERN
Public Relations

All music composed
and arranged by
FRANK ZAPPA

Special thanks to
THE PALLADIUM
New York City

© Copyright 1982
Boggs/Baker
Productions Inc.
and
Frank Zappa

www.zappa.com

GRAND RIGHTS
Project/Object
®  

HONKER
HOME
VIDEO
DIGITAL

IT'S A
HONKER!

She's only seventeen
She's really kind of cute
She's working in the street
She's a teen-age prostitute

She ran away from home
Her mom was destitute
Her daddy didn't care
She's a teen-age prostitute

She has got a pimp
He treats her like a dog
All the stuff she's shooting
Keeps her in a fog
Baby she would like to try and run away
But if she gets caught he will cause her some dismay

Tiny little pants
Chain around the boot
Shakin' in the dark
She's a teen-age prostitute

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
Gonna keep you warm
Tiny pillows
Tiny tiny tiny tiny sheets
Talkin' bout them tiny cookies
That the peoples eat

City of tiny lites
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
Can you hear the tiny auto horns
When they tiny blow
Tiny lightnin'
Ooh, in the storm
Tiny tiny tiny tiny tiny tiny tiny tiny
Tiny tiny tiny tiny tiny blankets
Gonna keep you so warm
So warm
Tiny pillows
And tiny tiny tiny tiny tiny sheets
Talkin' bout them tiny cookies
That the peoples eats
Well, city on tiny lites
Maybe you should know
That it's over there
Well, and it's over there
Said and it's over there
Said and it's over there

Do you know what you are?
You are what you is
You is what you am
(A cow don't make ham . . . )
You ain't what you're not
So see what you got
You are what you is
An' that's all it 'tis

A foolish young man
From a middle class fam'ly
Started singin' the blues
'Cause he thought it was manly
Now he talks like the Kingfish
("Saffiiiee!")
From Amos 'n Andy
("Holy mack'l dere . . . Holy mack'l dere!")
He tells you that chitlins . . .
(Chitlins!)
Well, they taste just like candy
He thinks that he's got
De whole thang down
From the Nivea Lotion
To de Royal Crown

Do you know what you are?
You are what you is
You is what you am
(A cow don't make ham . . . )
You ain't what you're not
So see what you got
You are what you is
An' that's all it 'tis

A foolish young man
Of the Negro Persuasion
Devoted his life
To become a caucasian
He stopped eating pork
He stopped eating greens
He traded his dashiki
("Uhuru!")
For some Jordache Jeans
He learned to play golf
An' he got a good score
Now he says to himself
"I AIN'T NO NIGGER NO MORE . . . HEY! HEY! HEY!"
"I don't understand you . . . "
BWANA MA-COO-BAH
"Would you please speak more clearly . . . "
MERCEDES BAINNNNNNNZ

Who is who
(I don't know . . . )
'N what is what
(Somethin' I just don't know . . . )
'N why is this
(Tell me now . . . )
Appropriot
(That's a funny pronunciation if'n ever I heard one . . . )
If you don't like
(Where'd you get that word?)
What you has got
(Appropriot? The word is not . . . )
Drop it in the dirt
(Drop it yeah . . . )
'N let it rot
(I can smell it now . . . )
Someone else
(Here de come, here de come . . . )
Will surely come
(I told you they was comin')
'N pick it up
(That's right!)
'Cause he wants some
(An' he wants it for free . . . )
And when one day
(There will come a day . . . )
You wonder who
(I wonder too . . . )
You used to was
(Who I was anyway . . . )
'N what you do
(I used to work at the post office . . . )
You'll scratch your head
(But I don't wanna un-do my doo . . . )
'N look around
(Just to see what's goin' on . . . )
But what you lost
(Can't seem to find it . . . )
Will not be found
(A Mercedes Benz . . . )

Do you know what you are?
(I know . . . )
You are what you is
(I'm the kinda guy . . . )
You is what you am
(That ought to be drivin' . . . )
A cow don't make a ham
(A four-fifty SLC . . . )
You ain't what you're not
(A big ol' red one . . . )
So see what you got
(With some golf clubs stickin' out de trunk . . . )
You are what you is
(I'm gwine down to de links on Saturday mornin' . . . )
An' that's all it is
(Gimme a five-dollar bill . . . )
YOU ARE WHAT YOU IS
(And an overcoat too . . . )
AND THAT'S ALL IT IS
(Where's my waitress? Yeah . . . )
YOU ARE WHAT YOU IS
(Robbie, take me to Greek Town . . . )
AN THAT'S ALL IT IS
(I'm harder than yer husband; harder than yer husband . . . )
YOU ARE WHAT YOU IS
(I'm goin' down to White Street, to the Mudd Club y'all . . . )
AN THAT'S ALL IT IS
(I'm goin' down 'n work the wall 'n work the floor . . . )
YOU ARE WHAT YOU IS . . .