Beck - Odelay (1996) by Beck (보컬) on maniadb.com

Something's wrong 'cause my mind is fading
And everywhere I look there's a dead end waiting
Temperature's dropping at the rotten oasis
Stealing kisses from the leperous faces

Heads are hanging from the garbage man trees
Mouthwash jukebox gasoline
Pistols are pointing at a poor man's pockets
Smiling eyes ripping out of his sockets

Got a devil's haircut in my mind
Got a devil's haircut in my mind
Got a devil's haircut in my mind
Got a devil's haircut in my mind

Love machines on the sympathy crutches
Discount orgies on the dropout buses
Hitching a ride with the bleeding noses
Coming to town with the brief case blues

Got a devil's haircut in my mind
Got a devil's haircut in my mind
Got a devil's haircut in my mind
Got a devil's haircut in my mind

Something's wrong 'cause my mind is fading
Ghetto-blastin' disintegrating
Rock 'n' roll, know what I'm sayin'
And everywhere I look there's a devil waiting

Got a devil's haircut in my mind
Got a devil's haircut in my mind
Got a devil's haircut in my mind
Got a devil's haircut in my mind

Devil's haircut! In my mind!
Devil's haircut! In my mind!
Devil's haircut! In my mind!

It takes a backwash man to sing a backwash song
Like a frying pan when the fire's gone
Driving my pig while the band's taking pictures in the grass
In my radio smashed
And I like pianos in the evening sun
Dragging my heels 'til my day is done
Saturday night in the captain's clothes
Tender horns blowin' in my jury 'fros

Yo soy un disco quebrado
Yo tengo chicle en el cerebro *

I can't believe my way back when
My Cadillac pants going much to fast
Karaoke weekend at the suicide shack
Community service and I'm still the mack
Shocked my finger, spots on my hand
I been spreading disease all across the land
Beautiful air-conditioned, sitting in the kitchen
Wishing I was living like a hit man

Face down in the guarantees
Jaundiced honchos gettin' busy with me
Because I get down I get down
I get down all the way

Yo soy un disco quebrado
Yo tengo chicle en el cerebro *

Sawdust songs of the plaid bartenders
Western Unions of the country westerns
Silver foxes looking for romance
In the chain smoke Kansas flashdance ass pants
And you got the hotwax residues
You never lose in your razor blade shoes
Stealing pesos out of my brain
Hazard signs down the Alamo lanes
Radar systems piercing the souls
You never get caught with the wax so rotten
All my days I got the grizzly words
Hijacked flavors that I'm flipping like birds

Yo soy un disco quebrado
Yo tengo chicle en el cerebro. *

girl: "who are you?"
man: "I'm the enchanting wizard of rhythm."
girl: "why did you come here?"
man: "I came here to tell you about the rhythms of the universe...."

*chorus translation: "I'm a broken record,
I have bubblegum in my brain"

You only got one finger left
And it's pointing at the door
And you're taking for granted
What the Lord's laid on the floor
So I'm picking up the pieces
And I'm putting them up for sale
Throw your meal ticket out the window
Put your skeletons in jail

'Cause Lord only knows it's getting late
Your senses are gone so don't you hesitate
To give yourself a call, let your bottom dollars fall
Throwing your two bit cares down the drain
Invite me to the seven seas like some seasick man
You'll do whatever you please and I'll do whatever I can
Titantic, fare thee well, my eyes are turning pink
Don't call us when the new age gets old enough to drink

'Cause Lord only knows it's getting late
Your senses are gone so don't you hesitate
Move on up the hill, there's nothing dead left to kill
Throwing your two bit cares down the drain
odelay, odelay, odelay, odelay
odelay, odelay
Just passing through
odelay, odelay, odelay, odelay

Going back to Houston
Do the hotdog dance
Going back to Houston
To get me some PANTS.....

She's got cigarette on each arm
She's got the lily-white cavity crazes
She's got a carburator tied to the moon
Pink eyes looking to the food of the ages

She's alone in the new pollution
She's alone in the new pollution

She's got a hand on a wheel of pain
She can talk to the mangling strangers
She can sleep in a fiery bog
Throwing troubles to the dying embers

She's alone in the new pollution
She's alone in the new pollution
She's alone in the new pollution
She's alone in the new pollution

She's got a paradise camoflauge
Like a whip-crack sending me shivers
She's the boat in a strip mine ocean
Riding low on the drunken rivers

She's alone in the new pollution
She's alone in the new pollution

I dropped my anchor in the dead of night
I packed my suitcase and threw it away
I fell asleep in the funeral fire
I gave my clothes to the police man
Blow back derelict wind, lay my soul in the foul of the air
Blow back derelict wind, lay my soul in the foul of the air
Shooting venom at the passers-by
I'm hi-jacking stop the heaven down
I put my eyes in a paper bag
I'm spinning round like a gambling wheel
Blow back derelict wind, lay my soul in the foul of the air
Blow back derelict wind, lay my soul in the foul of the air
I dropped my anchor in the dead of night
I packed my suitcase and threw it away
I fell asleep in the funeral fire
I gave my clothes to the police man
Blow back derelict wind, lay my soul in the foul of the air
Blow back derelict wind, lay my soul in the foul of the air

Keep on truckin' like a novacane hurricane
Low static on the paranoid shortwave
Short fuse, got to dismantle
Code-red: what's your handle?

Mission incredible undercover convoy
Full-tilt chromosome cowboy
X-ray search and destroy
Smoke stack black top novacane boy
Got some rum, long horn drum
Detonate with the suicide gate
Test-tube, still-born and dazed
Chump scum plays in the razor's haze
Got the momentum radioactive
Meltdown!

Circumsized with the operation
full spectrum generation
Cyanide ride down the turnpike
After hours on the miracle mic
Grinding the gears eighteen wheels
Rigs and robots riding on their heels
(?) roadblock making a cell block
Heats and infernos burning like drano
Down the horizon purple gasses
Semi-trucks hauling them asses
Novacane, hit the road express mode
Explode!

Novacane! Novacane!

I been drifting along in the same stale shoes
Loose ends tying the noose in the back of my mind
If you thought that you were making your way
To where the puzzles and pagans lay
I'll put it together: It's a strange invitation
When I wake up someone will sweep up my lazy bones
And we will rise in the cool of the evening
I remember the way that you smiled
When the gravity shackles were wild
And something is vacant when I think it's all beginning
I been drifting along in the same stale shoes
Loose ends tying the noose in the back of my mind
If you thought that you were making your way
To where the puzzles and pagans lay
I'll put it together: It's a strange invitation

There's a destination a little up the road
From the habitations and the towns we know
A place we saw the lights turn low
With the jig-saw jazz and the get-fresh flow

Pulling out jives and jamboree handouts
Two turntables and a microphone
Bottles and cans just clap your hands just clap your hands

Where it's at!
I got two turntables and a microphone
Where it's at!
I got two turntables and a microphone
Where it's at!
I got two turntables and a microphone
Where it's at!
[robot vocal effect] I got two turntables and a microphone

take me home in my elevator bones!

Pick yourself up off the side of the road
With your elevator bones and your whip-flash tones
Members only hyponotizers
move through the womb like ambulance drivers
Shine your shoes with your microphone blues
Here-suits with your parachute fruits
Passing the dutchie from coast to coast
Let the man get loose while I rock the most

Where it's at!
I got two turntables and a microphone
Where it's at!
I got two turntables and a microphone

Man[spoken]: "What about those who swing both ways: AC-DC's?

Two turntables and a microphone
Two turntables and a microphone
Two turntables and a microphone
Two turntables and a microphone
Two turntables and a microphone
Two turntables and a microphone

Where it's at!
I got two turntables and a microphone
Where it's at!
I got two turntables and a microphone

Oh, dear me. Make Out City is a two-horse town
girl[spoken]: "That's beautiful, Dad."

(Get my microphone....)
There's a destination a little up the road
From the habitations and the towns we know
A place we saw the lights turn low
With the jig-saw jazz and the get-fresh flow

Pulling out jives and jamboree handouts
Two turntables and a microphone
Bottles and cans just clap your hands just clap your hands

Where it's at!
I got two turntables and a microphone
Where it's at!
I got two turntables and a microphone

I got plastic on my mind
Telephone plastic baby

The last survivor of a boiled crown
Another casualty with the casual frown
The janitor vandals they bark in your face
Juveniles with the piles and paste

It's a sensation
A bankrupt corpse
In the garbage glasses
With the crutches of frogs(that bores)

Don't be confused when the fuse is up
And you're taking a leak into your brother's cup
When the cup is filled you can run and be killed
In the billion miles of the muscles that build

Radiation
Feeling the force
Karaoke
Vomiting morons

The scalps of zero hear the call
Rubbing in a blind man's running hall
With the canker sores and the robot pill
Throwing imbeciles on the window sills

It's a sensation
A bankrupt corpse
In the garbage glasses
With the crutches of frogs

Frogs! Frogs! Frogs!

I don't need no wheels
I don't need no gasoline
'Cause the wind that is blowing
Is blowing like a smoke machine

If I said to you
That I was looking for a place to get to
'Cause my neck is broken
And my pants ain't getting no bigger

I got a stolen wife
And a rhinestone life
And some good ol' boys
I'm writing my will
On a three dollar bill
In the evening time

All my friends
Tell me something is getting together
I got a beard that would disappear
If I'm dressed in leather
Now let me tell you about my baby
She was born in Arizona
Sitting in the jailhouse
Trying to learn some good manners

I got a stolen wife
And a rhinestone life
And some good ol' boys
I'm writing my will
On a three dollar bill
In the evening time

Matchsticks strike
When I'm riding my bike to the depot
'Cause everybody knows my name
At the recreation center
If I could only find a nickel
I would pay myself off tonight
'Cause nobody knows
When he good times have passed out cold

I got a stolen wife
And a rhinestone life
And some good ol' boys
I'm writing my will
On a three dollar bill
In the evening time

I got a stolen wife
And a rhinestone life
And some good ol' boys
I'm writing my will
On a three dollar bill
In the evening time

Don't talk to me
If you're looking for somebody to cry on
Don't talk to me
If you're looking for somebody to cry on

[scream] Ahhhowwww!!

An open road where I can breathe
Where the lowest low is calling to me
I can pull myself back up back down
Stuck together like a readymade
And nobody knows where we been
Canceled rations are running thin
Watches tick out of tune
Falling apart like a readymade
My bags are waiting
In the next life
Rubbish piles fresh and plain
Empty boxes in a pawn shop brain
License plates stowaway
Standing in line like a readymade
And my bags are waiting
in the next life
An open road where I can breathe
Where the lowest low is calling to me
I can pull myself back up back down
Stuck together like a readymade
And my bags are waiting
in the next life

High 5, High 5!
High 5, High 5!
[rappers]: " C'mon on! 8! Everybody! C'mon! 7! C'mon, now! 6! 5!
Aw, yeah, I like that shit."
When I rock it's like a high 5
Want a slap in the face I love the taste
All my days with my wheelchair ways
Watch me die in my suicide high
I don't mean it 'cause I only come on to you
When I step to the room with a powerful motion
Leopard skin let the records spin
'Round and round with the speed of sound
High 5! More dead than alive!
Rocking the plastic like a man from the Catskills!
High 5! More dead than alive!
Rocking the plastic like a man from the Catskills!
Rocky mountain low we gotta go
Put that gadget in the random mode
Cripple candy rocking the candy
Rhumba, brickshot, doing the foxtrot
In my car sweating like a dog
Beers and chairs no frontiers
On my way from the 'Frisco Bay
Dixieland, soda-pop man
High 5! More dead than alive!
Rocking the plastic like a man from the Catskills!
High 5! More dead than alive!
Rocking the plastic like a man from the Catskills!
[spoken]:Yeah, put that machine in random mode
Talking about popping jugger
Like the last century
[Mike D]: "Turn that shit off, man! What's wrong with you?
Man, get the other record! Damn!"
High 5! More dead than alive!
Rocking the plastic like a man from the Catskills!
High 5! More dead than alive!
Rocking the plastic like a man from the Catskills!
High 5! More dead than alive!
Rocking the plastic like a man from the Catskills!
High 5! More dead than alive!
Rocking the plastic like a man from the Catskills!
[Mike D]: "Ok, now. Do like designer jeans.
Everybody, designer jeans! say, say, say, say, say: Ooh, la la,
sasoon!
C'mon, c'mon, c'mon!
Everybody!
One more time, let me hear you say: Ooh, la la, sasoon!
Just do it everybody, c'mon!
Now I want the ladies.
All the ladies, say: Sergio Valente! Sing it, girl.
Let me hear you say: Sergio Valente!
Say: Jordache!"

You've been so long
Your blind eyes are gone
Your old bones are on their own
So take off your coat
Put a song in your throat
Let the dead-beats pound all around
We will go
Nowhere we know
We don't have to talk at all
Hand me downs
Flypaper towns
Stuck together
One and all
The bargains you drive
Buckets and bags
And all your belongings
Your train's in the sand
Ramshackle land
Let the rats watch the races
We will go
Nowhere we know
'Til we find our one and all
Hand me downs
Flypaper towns
Stuck together
One and all
Praises get spent
Your trick face is bent
Pigsties and prizes
'Cause there's no kind of 'well'
You're suiting yourself
You leave yourself behind
We will go
Nowhere we know
'Til we find our one and all
Your hand me downs
Flypaper towns
Stuck together
One and all

([gotta get it)
([gotta] get it)
(yeeah-oh!)
(yeeah-oh!)
(plastic classic)

Can't forget my [bestial] [???]
Close electric telephone [phones]

Ballin like hordes!
About the shout!

Nasty distortion, [out on my road-jump]
All my friends gout [biscuit/sixties] soul
Rockin the plastic
Takin the [no no / robo]
Rough as a river
Cowboy nowboy
[biscuit / risk it] [tripper] hittin the wicked

Man with soul, above the road
Takin' it back for the finger-point crowd

Ooh, [gotta] get it, plastic classic
Totem] [poles] in the briefcase shows

Diskobox, [so] action!
Gotta [let forget] with the jazz effect
*(gotta [let forget] with the jazz effect)*

Diskobox, [so] action!
Gotta [let forget] with the jazz effect
*(gotta [let forget] with the jazz effect)*

Once the whistle blows, my sucker froze
Last saturday night, i couldn't find my [fight]

[drinkin] whiskey an' i did not shave
Paralyzed, like'd didn't have no time
[pumping] [whimper] and round the road
A traveling man with a crooked van

Soda-pop oo sittin like slime
Lets get [soul] an' i realized
Diskobox, [so] action!
Gotta [let forget] with the jazz effect
*(gotta [let forget] with the jazz effect) - beck sings at the same time*

Diskobox oh!
Diskobox oh!
Diskobox oh!
Diskobox oh!
Diskobox oh!
Diskobox oh!
Diskobox oh!