| Disc 1 | ||||||
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I'm cryin'
I'm cryin' Cryin' for Sharleena, Don't you know? I called up all my baby's friends 'N ask'n um Where she done went But nobody 'round here seems to know Where my Sharleena's been Where my Sharleena's been I'm cryin' I'm cryin' Cryin' for Sharleena, Can't you see? I called up all my baby's friends 'N ask'n um Where she done went But nobody 'round here seems to know Where my Sharleena's been Where my Sharleena's been Ten long years I been lov'n her Ten long years And I thought deep down in my heart She was mine Ten long years I been lov'n her Ten long years I would call her my baby, and now, I'm always cryin' Ugh! Ugh! I would be so delighted I would be so delighted If they would just Send her on home to me I would be so delighted I would be so delighted If they would just Send her on home to me Send my baby home to me! Send my baby home to me! Send my baby ho-oo-ome! Send my baby home to me! |
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Frank Zappa (lead guitar, vocals)
Ike Willis (rhythm guitar, vocals) Ray White (rhythm guitar, vocals) Steve Vai (rhythm guitar, vocals) Warren Cucurullo (rhythm guitar, vocals) Denny Walley (slide guitar, vocals) Tommy Mars (keyboards, vocals) Peter Wolf (keyboards) Bob Harris (keyboards, trumpet, vocals) Ed Mann (percussion) Arthur Barrow (bass, vocals) Vinnie Colaiuta (drums) Bamboozled by love, Oh lord, the shit done hit the fan Bamboozled by love Oh lord, the shit done hit the fan The way that girl been carryin' on I swear I just don't understand Don't you know I treat her nice and kind The way no other lover can Now don't you know I treat her nice and kind The way no other lover can I came home the other day and she was Suckin' off some other man I ain't the type for beggin' I ain't the type to plead If she don't change those evil ways I'm gonna make her bleed She can scream and 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 I said she fooled around too long Bamboozled by love I said she fooled around too long Now I am mad and getting meaner I am here and she is gone And the reason you have not seen her She is underneath the lawn I know she's underneath the lawn, lawn, lawn Now look I ain't the type for beggin' Now I ain't the type to plead If she don't change those evil ways I'm gonna make her bleed She can scream and 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 I said she fooled around too long Bamboozled by love, oh lord I said she fooled around too long Now I am mad and getting meaner, meaner I am here and she is gone And the reason you have not seen her, seen her Is she is underneath the lawn |
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Frank Zappa (lead guitar, vocals)
Warren Cucurullo (rhythm guitar, vocals) Denny Walley (slide guitar, vocals) Ike Willis (lead vocals) Peter Wolf (keyboards) Tommy Mars (keyboards) Arthur Barrow (bass, vocals) Ed Mann (percussion) Vinnie Colaiuta (drums) Jeff (tenor saxophone) Marginal Chagrin (baritone saxophone) Stumuk (bass saxophone) Dale Bozzio (vocals) Al Malkin (vocals) Craig Steward (harmonica) JOE is so disoriented by his disease, he goes in the other room and plays the title cut from an old Jeff Simmons album, and sings along with it. Joe: Lucille Has messed my mind up But I still love her Oh I still love her Lucille Has messed my mind up But I still love her Oh I still love her Lucille Has messed my mind up But I still need her You know I need her Whatcha tryna doota me Lucille? Whatcha tryna doota me Lucille? Whatcha tryna doota me Lucille? You got me goin' outa my mind Lucille Has tore my heart up But I still love her I really love her Lucille Has tore my heart up But I still need her You know I need her She treats me like my heart Is made of stone She runs around And leaves me home All alone She doesn't answer When I call her on the phone She messed up my mind I'm crying alla the time Lucille Has messed my mind up But I still love her I really love her Lucille Has tore my heart up But I still need her I really need her Lucille My mind up I love her I really love her Lucille My heart up But I still love her I really love her Lucille My mind up I love her I really love her Lucille My heart up I really need her I really really need her Lucille My mind up I really love her I really really love her Lucille My heart up I really love her I really love her Lucille My mind up But I still love her I really really love her Lucille My mind up I really need her I really really need her Lucille Has tore my heart up I really love her I really really love her Lucille My mind up I really love her I really love her |
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(Ooh . . . )
A real hologram! (We sure do!) I mean: not real, but almost a real hologram Hey there, people, I'm Bobby Brown They say I'm the cutest boy in town My car is fast, my teeth is shiney Tell all the girls they can kiss my heinie (Tiny heinie ho!) Here I am at a famous school (Gonna fly now) I'm dressin' sharp I'm 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 son-of-a-bitch Gonna get a good job 'n be real rich (Get a good, get a good, get a good, get a good . . . ) 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 miserable sonofabitch Am I a boy or a lady . . . I don't know which (I wonder wonder, Hi-Yo, Silver!) So I went out 'n bought me a leisure mask I jingle my change, but I'm still kinda cute Got a job doin' radio promo (Gonna fly now) An' none of the jocks can even tell i'm a homo Eventually me 'n a friend Sorta of drifted along into S&M (YA!) I can take about an hour on the tower of power '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 Hi-Yo, Silver! Oh God, Oh God, I'm so fan . . . Hi-Yo, Silver! And my name is Bobby Brown And my name is Bobby Brown Hi-Yo, Silver! Away! And my name is Bobby Brown Hi-Yo, Silver! |
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Frank Zappa (lead guitar, vocals)
Ike Willis (rhythm guitar, vocals) Ray White (rhythm guitar, vocals) Bobby Martin (keyboards, vocals) Alan Zavod (keyboards) Scott Thunes (bass) Chad Wackerman (drums) "Hi-ho Silver!" Way! Keep it greasey so it'll go down easy Keep it greasey so it'll go down easy Keep it greasey so it'll go down easy Roll it over 'n grease it down I'll drive you through the heart of town Keep it greasey so it'll go down easy Keep it greasey so it'll go down easy Keep it greasey so it'll go down easy Roll it over 'n grease it down I'll drive you through the heart of town "Hi-ho Silver!" Hey, the good women, they sure has it tough The good men, well there just ain't enough All the good girls are lookin' all the time Good silver 's something that they can't find 'Cause if they find one miraculously They try to be lovin' as they can be 'Cause if they find one and let him go Chances are they might not never find one no mo' So they Keep it greasey so it'll go down easy Way! Keep it greasey so it'll go down easy Keep it greasey so it'll go down easy Roll it over 'n grease it down I'll drive you through the heart of town A good lovin' man is hardest to find A good woman needs to ease her mind And I know a few that need to ease it behind All y'gotta do is grease it down 'N everything is fine Keep it greasey so it'll go down easy Keep it greasey so it'll go down easy Keep it greasey so it'll go down easy Roll it over 'n grease it down I'll drive you through the heart of town A girl don't need No fancy grease To get herself Some rump release Any kind Of lube 'll do Maybe from another Part of you Lube from the North Lube from the South Take a little slobber "Hi-ho Silver!" From the side of your mouth From your mouth From your mouth From your mouth From your mouth ... Grease it down Here come that crazy Screamin' sound... "Hi-ho Silver!" "Thank you, Masked Man!" "Hi-ho Silver!" ... Ok: everybody! "Hi-ho Silver!" Keep it greasey so it'll go down easy Keep it greasey so it'll go down easy Keep it greasey so it'll go down easy Roll it over 'n grease it down, down, down Grease it down... Oh no no no! Here comes that screamin' sound again... |
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Johnny "Guitar" Watson (lead vocals)
Bobby Martin (harmonica) Tommy Mars (keyboards) Arthur Barrow (bass) We're playin' in a tent It's payin' the rent If you pooch a civilian, It's a mayor event In France Way down in France Way on down Way on down In France The girls is all salty The boys is all sweet The food ain't too shabby, An' they piss in the street In France Way down in France Way on down Way on down In France They got diseases Like you never seen Got a mystery blow-job Turn your peter green In France Way down in France Way on down Way on down In France They got some coffee, Eatin' right through the cup, An' when they go ka-ka They make you stand up In France Way down in France Way on down Way on down In France If you're not careful, It'll stick to your cheeks You'll smell like a native For a couple of weeks In France Way down in France Way on down Way on down In France We cannot wait Till we go back It gets so exciting When the poodles 'react' In France Way down in France Way on down Way on down In France Never try to get yo' peter sucked In France |
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Frank Zappa (lead guitar, vocals)
Steve Vai (guitar) Ray White (rhythm guitar, vocals) Tommy Mars (keyboards) Bobby Martin (keyboards, saxophone, vocals) Ed Mann (percussion) Chad Wackerman (drums) Roy Estrada (vocals) Ike Willis (vocals) Bob Harris (vocals) Scott Thunes (bass) There's a ship arriving too late To save a drowning witch She was swimmin' along Tryin' to keep a date With a Merchant Marine Who told her he was really rich But it doesn't matter no more... She's on the ocean floor 'N the water's all green down there 'N it's not very clean down there 'N water snakes 'N rusty wrecks Is all that she can see As the light goes dim And she's tryin' to swim Will she make it? (Boy, we sure hope so...) Not even a witch oughta be caught On the bottom of America's spew-infested Waterways, hey-hey... She could get radiation all over her She could mutate insanely... She could mutate insanely... (that's right) You know she could go on the freeway and grow up to be 15 feet tall and scary-lookin' And then... Cars could crash all over the place As a result of people with Hawaiian shirts on... Lookin' up to see her face Sardines in her eyebrows... Lobsters up 'n down her forehead All of them HORRIBLY LARGE FROM RADIATION... And smelling very bad And DANGEROUS! Maybe a submarine could save her, And bring her home to the Navy... For some kind of ritual sacrifice... |
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Ride my face to Chicago
Ride it all night long Ride my face to Chicago Ride it all night long Say oo-wee-oo-oo (Oo-wee-oo-oo) You can say that! (Oo-wee-oo-oo) One more time! (Oo-wee-oo-oo) Oh, well Ride my... Ride my face to Chicago Ride it all night long Ride my face to Chicago Ride it all night long All aboard? (Oo-wee-oo-oo) The train is leaving soon (Oo-wee-oo-oo) You must be on board with a ticket (Oo-wee-oo-oo) Will that be an aisle or a window? Ride my... (Ride my!) Ride on my face Ride on my face Ride on my face Ride my face to Chicago Ride it all night long Ride my face to Chicago Ride it all night long Say oo-wee-oo-wee-wee-wee-wee (Oo-wee-oo-oo) Oo-wee-wee-oo oo-wee-oo oo-wee-wee (Oo-wee-oo-oo) Tell 'em what they win, Bob! (Oo-wee-oo-oo) From the spinning catalog! Ride my... Ride on my face Ride on my face (Pocket Fisherman!) Ride on my face Ride on my face (Veg-O-Matic!) Ride on my face Ride on my face (Oo-wee!) Ride on my face Ride my... |
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Oh Carol!
Oh Carol! You was a fool Carol, you fool You was a fool Carol, you fool Carol, you fool Don't you know you're crazy He won't be true But your mind's a little hazy He'll break your heart Don't let it start But if you think it's better Go ahead and buy 'm a sweater Carol, you fool You think you've got it so bad (Thank you!) Tryin' to steal some money Just to get some more of what you had And he's got the dog And he has no log No, he won't come back So put away your black-jack You wanna try (You wanna try) To rob some Mexican guy (To rob a Mexican guy) Beat him on the head (Oh, you beat him on his head) Maybe make him dead (You just might make him dead) Just so you can fly (Oh, you wanna fly) From Pittsburgh out to see him (You said you really gotta see him) Carol, you're a foolish fool (Carol, oh-oh, girl!) You don't really need him Carol Carol Carol Carol Fool Fool Fool Carol, you fool You wanna try (Oh... you said you wanna try) (You wanna try to rob some Mexican guy) To rob some Mexican guy (To rob a Mexican guy) (You wanna beat him all over his head) Beat him on the head (Please, don't beat him on his head, girl) (If you wanna make him dead, Who knows what you want to do 'cause he's not...) Maybe make him dead (You just might make him dead) Just so you can fly (You say you gotta gotta fly) From Pittsburgh out to see him (You didn't... broccoli tonight) (Fool, you really gotta see him) Carol, you're a foolish fool (Carol, oh-oh, girl!) You don't really need him Carol, you fool I think you better try again Carol, you fool Don't wanna see you cry again He's gone away What can you say? Carol, you fool You'll meet another engineer You was a fool (Aw, Carol, you fool) Carol, you fool (Carol, you foolish fool) You was a fool (No!) (Oh Carol, you...) Carol, you fool (Carol, you foolish, foolish fool) You was a fool (Oh Carol, you fool) Carol, you fool, you! |
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Chana in de Bushwop
In de Bushwop Chana in de Bushwop In de Bushwop Chana in de Bushwop In de Bushwop Chana in de Bushwop In de Bushwop Chana in de Bushwop In de Bushwop Chana in de Bushwop In de Bushwop Chana in de Bushwop In de Bushwop Chana in de Bushwop She live in a tree (They call her Chana in de Bushwop) Nine foot three (They call her Chana in de Bushwop) Larger than me (She's a Chana in de Bushwop) And she's a mystery (She's a Chana in de Bushwop) They call her Chana in de Bushwop In de Bushwop Chana in de Bushwop In de Bushwop Where she goes... Nobody knows She eats a horse (She's a Chana in de Bushwop) It's very large of course (Like a Chana in de Bushwop) She wears a dog (Like/Chaka Chana in de Bushwop) And she loves that frog (Like/Chaka Chana in de Bushwop) They call her Chana in de Bushwop In de Bushwop Chana in de Bushwop In de Bushwop Where she goes... Nobody knows Chana, Chana, Chana, Chana In de Bushwop Chana, Chana, Chana, Chana In de Bushwop Chana, Chana, Chana, Chana In de Bushwop Chana, Chana, Chana, Chana In de Bushwop Chana in de Bushwop In de Bushwop Chana in de Bushwop In de Bushwop Isn't that amazing? She went to France (Like a Chana in de Bushwop) And she tried to dance (Like a Chana in de Bushwop) She raised a big fuss (Like a Chana in de Bushwop) In the back of the bus (Like a Chana in de Bushwop) One of those dudes with a long loaf of bread Made a big mistake When he turned and said: "Chana inne zi bouchoipe (Hey! Nice volcano!) Chana inne zi bouchoipe Hon hon hon!" She banged his head (Like a Chana in de Bushwop) With a loaf of lead (Like a Chana in de Bushwop) She had this sucker weepin' (Like a Chana in de Bushwop) 'Bout that sausage he's keepin' (Like a Chana in de Bushwop) He stood there weepin' on the crumbs She said: Isn't that amazing? Oh! It's just amazing... Ha ha ha! That's right! It's... it's broccoli for him! Yes, oh, what? Isn't that amazing? Oh... uh... Chana, Chana, Chana, Chana (Broccoli for everyone!) In de Bushwop Chana, Chana, Chana, Chana (It's on the house tonight!) In de Bushwop Chana, Chana, Chana, Chana In de Bushwop Chana, Chana, Chana, Chana In de Bushwop Chana from de Bushwop From de Bushwop Chana from de Bushwop From de Bushwop (Ka-poo!) Where'd she go? Well, I don't know! I-da-ho! (Wile E. Coyote!) |
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| Disc 2 | ||||||
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Terry Bozzio (drums, background vocals)
Davey Moire (vocals) Andre Lewis (organ, vocals) Roy Estrada (bass, vocals) Dave Parlato (bass) Napoleon Murphy Brock (saxophone, vocals) Ruth Underwood (synthesizer, marimba) Donnie Vliet (harmonica) Louanne Neil (harp) Ruben Ladron De Guevara (background vocals) Sharkie Barker (background vocals) (Instrumental) |
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Frank Zappa (lead guitar, vocals)
Ike Willis (rhythm guitar, vocals) Ray White (rhythm guitar, vocals) Bob Harris (boy soprano, trumpet) Steve Vai (guitar) Tommy Mars (keyboards) Arthur Barrow (bass) Ed Mann (percussion) David Ocker (clarinet, bass clarinet) Motorhead Sherwood (tenor saxophone, vocals) Denny Walley (slide guitar, vocals) David Logeman (drums) Craig Steward (harmonica) Jimmy Carl Black (vocals) Ahmet Zappa (vocals) Moon Zappa (vocals) You're the ol' lady from the society pages From a small town somewhere I used to be You owned the paper and a bunch of other stuff That didn't appeal to me OL' LADY OL'LADY OL' LADY OL'LADY OL' LADY OL'LADY OL' LADY OL'LADY The hostpital plans (yer brother drew 'em all) You ran the paper 'n Charity Ball Every day on the third or fourth page There you was..you was quite the rage Somehow you was all kinda cheap 'n wrong Just like in a lotta small towns Where folks like you Hang around too long And pass out jobs to yer relatives 'n such So you all keeps a lot, 'n nobody else Ever gets too much...to speak of... So what? What can you say? So long as the trash gets picked up So long as the trash gets locked up Just so the trash don't stack up Some day you won't be on page three Or page four anymore OL' LADY OL'LADY OL' LADY OL'LADY OL' LADY OL'LADY OL' LADY OL'LADY By the grace of God you had a son He's the one and only one He grew up and by and by He came to be a Beautiful Guy |
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Frank Zappa (guitar, vocals, drum machine)
Steve Vai (guitar, acoustic guitar) Ray White (guitar, vocals) Roy Estrada (vocals) Bob Harris (boy soprano) Ike Willis (vocals) Bobby Martin (keyboards, saxophone, vocals) Tommy Mars (keyboards) Arthur Barrow (keyboards, bass, micro bass, rhythm guitar) Ed Mann (percussion) Scott Thunes (bass) Chad Wackerman (drums) Vinnie Colaiuta (drums) Craig Steward (harmonica) Dick Fegy (mandolin) Marty Krystall (saxophone) Chop a line now... Cocaine decisions... You are a person with a snow-jon You got a fancy gotta go job Where the cocaine decisions that you make today Will Mean that millions somewhere else Will do it your way Cocaine decisions... You are a person who is high class You are a person not in my class And the cocaine decisions that you make today Will mean nothing later on When you get nose decay I don't wanna know 'Bout the things that you pull Outta your nose Or where they goes But if you are wasted From the stuff you're stickin' in it I get madder every day 'Cause what you do 'n' what you say Affects my life in such a way I learn to hate it every minute! Cocaine decisions... You are a doctor or a lawyer You got an office with a foyer And the cocaine decisions that you make today Will not be discovered till it's over 'n' done By the customers you hold at bay Cocaine decisions... You are a movie business guy You got accountants who supply The necessary figures To determine when you fly To Acapulco Where all your friends go Cocaine decisions... We must watch the stuff you make You have let us eat the cake While your accountants tell you Yes Yes Yes You make EXPENSIVE UGLINESS (How do you do it? -- Let me guess...) Cocaine decisions... Cocaine decisions... Cocaine decisions... |
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I signed on the line
For seven long years They said I'd be a big star They said I'd get a big car All the coke I could toot All the dope I could shoot All the smoke I could smoke But now I'm beat up 'n broke They said I oughta re-record "The Tracks Of My Tears" They said, "Hey! This is it! It's gonna be a big hit" With my name up in lights And some custom-made tights All the girls call my name (Massimo!) But it was all just a game Nigger Biznis Nigger Biznis Well, Nigger Biznis all the time Well, Nigger Biznis has brought disaster On top of this here heart of mine (Right now's the time to play the blues!) Well, one day that contract will expire One day I will be free From that Nig (oh!) Oh, Nig-ig-ig (oh!) Nigger Biznis office Nigger Biznis office Representing me Nigger Biznis Nigger Biznis Oh, Nigger Biznis all the time, all along Well, Nigger Biznis has brought destruction Which is why you're hearin' this song |
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AAAAH...
(Oui!) AAAAAAH... Bidet! (Sport shirt) BLOOOW-JOB Jambon (Corn-hole!) (Sport shirt!) Bidet! (Corn... hole) Jambon BLOOOW-JOB (Corn-hole!) Bidet! (Sport shirt) Bidet! (Sport shirt, sport shirt, sport shirt, sport shirt) Bidet! OOO-AHH!! Bidet! Bidet, bidet, bidet, bidet, bidet, bidet, bidet, bidet, bi... (Corn-hole... corn-hole...) (Sport shirt, sport shirt, sport shirt, sport shirt, sport shirt...) BLOW-JOB! BLOW-JOB! BLOW-JOB! Jambon, jambon, jambon, jambon... (Couchon...) Bidet! Bidet! (Sport shirt, sport shirt) Cooooorn-HOOOOLE! Ed: Thank you Oh thank you, you're really too kind Thank you, thank you so much Thank you, thank you Blow-job! FZ: Ed Mann, ladies and gentlemen! Oui! Avec oui, oui (Sport shirt) Now for the next part of our program, We'd like to present, ah... BLOW-JOB! Bidet! BLOW-JOB! Jambon! Corn-hole! Jambon! BLOW-JOB! Jambon... Bidet!... Blow-job... Bidet... I want a garden! I want a garden! I want a garden! (I WANT A NUN I WANT A NUN I WANT A BURRO IN THE FROSTY LIGHT) I want a garden! (I WANT A NUN) I want a garden... Just like the garden That that asshole came up here on the stage And sang about, three years ago... He came up out of the audience, He said: "I want a garden! I want a garden! I wanna water it with my tears..." And then Denny Walley said: "Oh, you want kindergarten!" Hail CAESAR! |
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The Mystery Man came over
An' he said: "I'm outa-sight!" He said, for a nominal service charge, I could reach Nirvana t'nite If I was ready, willing 'n able To pay him his regular fee He would drop all the rest of his pressing affairs And devote His Attention to me But I said . . . Look here brother, Who you jivin' with that Cosmik Debris? (Now who you jivin' with that Cosmik Debris?) Look here brother, Don't you waste your time on me The Mystery Man got nervous An' he fidget around a bit He reached in the pocket of his Mystery Robe An' he whipped out a shaving kit Now, I thought it was a razor An' a can of foamin' goo But he told me right then when the top popped open There was nothin' his box won't do With the oil of Afro-dytee An' the dust of the Grand Wazoo He said: "You might not believe this, little fella, but it'll cure your Asthma too!" An' I said . . . Look here brother, Who you jivin' with that Cosmik Debris? (Now what kind of a geroo are you anyway?) Look here brother, Don't you waste your time on me Don't waste yer time . . . I've got troubles of my own, I said An' you can't help me out So take your meditations an' your preparations An' ram it up yer snout "BUT I GOT A KRISTL BOL!", he said An' held it to the light So I snatched it All away from him An' I showed him how to do it right I wrapped a newspaper 'round my head So I'd look like I was Deep I said some Mumbo Jumbos then An' told him he was goin' to sleep I robbed his rings An' pocket watch An' everything else I found I had that sucker hypnotized He couldn't even make a sound I proceeded to tell him his future then As long as he was hanging around, I said "The price of meat has just gone up An' yer ol' lady has just gone down . . . " Look here brother, Who you jivin' with that Cosmik Debris? (Now is that a real poncho or is that a Sears poncho?) Don't you know, You could make more money as a butcher, So don't you waste your time on me (Don't waste it, don't waste your time on me . . . ) Ohm shonty, ohm shonty, ohm shonty-ohm SSHONTAY |
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