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Dumb All Over (Frank Zappa)
This version of lyrics from "Have I Offended Someone?" (a fantastic live version) released 1997 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 trying 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 an' far Dumb all over, black an' white People, we is not wrapped tight Nerds on the left, nerds on the right Religious fanatics on the air every night Saying the Bible tells the story Makes the details sound real gory About what to do if the geeks over there Don't believe in the book we got over here You can't run a race without no feet An' 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 An' 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 smidgen Of foolish rules of ancient date Designed to make you all feel great While you fold, spindle and mutilate Those unbelievers from a neighboring state TO ARMS! TO ARMS! Hooray! That's great Two legs ain't bad unless there's a crate They ship the parts to mama in For souvenirs: two ears - Get Down! Not his, not hers, but what the hey? The Good Book says: "It's gotta be that way!" But their book says: "REVENGE THE CRUSADES!!!!..." With whips an' chains an' hand grenades..." TWO ARMS? TWO ARMS? Have another and another My God says: "There ain't no other!" Our God says: "It's all okay!" My God says: "This is the way!" It says in the book: "Burn and destroy....." An' repent, an' redeem, an' revenge, an' deploy An' 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 An' that makes 'em BAD So All, verily we must choppeth them up Or stompeth them down Or rent a nice French bomb Ssssssssss........ to poof them out of existence While leaving their real estate just where we need it To use again for temples in which to praise OUR GOD "Cause He can really take care of business!" And when His humble TV servant With white hair and a brown suit And maybe a blond wife who takes phone calls Tells us it's okay to do this stuff, then we're supposed do it 'Cause if we don't do it, we ain't gwine up to hebbin! (Depending on which book you're using at the time... Can't use theirs... it's all lies...... Gotta use mine... Ain't that right? That's what they say -- Every night... Every day... 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 He says: "He made us all to be just like Him," So... If we're dumb... Then God is dumb... An' maybe even a little bit ugly on the side DUMB ALL OVER ? a little ugly on the side DUMB ALL OVER ? a little ugly on the side DUMB ALL OVER ? a little ugly on the side |
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Frank Zappa (guitar, lead vocals)
George Duke (keyboards, synthesizer, vocals) Napoleon Murphy Brock (flute, tenor saxophone, vocals) Chester Thompson (drums) Tom Fowler (bass) Ruth Underwood (vibes, marimba, percussion) Bloodshot Rollin' Red (harmonica) Evelyn, a modified dog Viewed the quivering fringe of a special doily Draped across the piano, with some surprise In the darkened room Where the chairs dismayed And the horrible curtains Muffled the rain She could hardly believe her eyes A curious breeze A garlic breath Which sounded like a snore Somewhere near the Steinway (or even from within) Had caused the doily fringe to waft & tremble in the gloom Evelyn, a dog, having undergone Further modification Pondered the significance of short-person behavior In pedal-depressed panchromatic resonance And other highly ambient domains... Arf she said |
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Frank Zappa (lead guitar, vocals)
Adrian Belew (rhythm guitar, vocals) Tommy Mars (keyboards, vocals) Peter Wolf (keyboards) Patrick O'Hearn (bass, vocals) Terry Bozzio (drums, vocals) Ed Mann (percussion, vocals) Napoleon Murphy Brock (background vocals) Andre Lewis (background vocals) Randy Thornton (background vocals) Davey Moire (background vocals) David Ocker (clarinet) Many well-dressed people In several locations Are kissing quite a bit 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 yourself in the clutches of some Wild Love Mama stroked his dinger Daddy got a stinky finger In those days of long ago Later in the evening She'd complain They'd refrain He'd go home and 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 Later in the evening You'll explain She'll remain You're real modern She's the same A frantic pace maybe But who's to say Where it will go |
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Mark Volman (lead vocals)
Howard Kaylan (lead vocals) Ian Underwood (woodwinds, keyboards, vocals) Aynsley Dunbar (drums) Don Preston (keyboards, mini-moog) Jim Pons (bass, vocals) Primer mi carucha, chevy '39 Going to El Monte Legion Stadium Pick up on my weesa, she is so divine Helps me stealing hubcaps, wasted all the time Fuzzy dice, bongos in the back My ship of love is ready to attack |
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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) Well, yeah, well Oh yeah She was a fine girl She could get down wit de get down All de way down She do yer laundry She change a tire Chop a little wood for de fire Poke it around...if it died down Oh yeah She was a fine girl She go up in the mornin' She go down in the evenin'...all de way down She do the 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 She was a fine girl She could get down wit de get down All de way down She do your 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 With a lovely smile With a bucket on her head Fulla water from de well She could run a mile Oh 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 Didn't need no school She was built like a mule With a thong sandal Well, wasn't no kinda job she could not handle She could get down...wit de get down All de way down We need some more like dat in dis kinda town We need some more like dat in dis kinda town We need some more like dat in dis kinda town We need some more like dat in dis kinda town... We need some more like dat... |
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Frank Zappa (lead guitar, vocals)
George Duke (keyboards, synthesizer, vocals) Tom Fowler (bass) Ruth Underwood (percussion) Jeff Simmons (rhythm guitar, vocals) Don Preston (synthesizer) Bruce Fowler (trombone) Walt Fowler (trumpet) Napoleon Murphy Brock (tenor saxophone, flute, lead vocals) Ralph Humphrey (drums) Chester Thompson (drums) Debbie (background vocals) Lynn (background vocals) Robert Camarena (background vocals) Goin' back home To the Village of the Sun Out in back of Palmdale Where the turkey farmers run, I done Made up my mind And I know I'm gonna go to Sun Village, good God I hope the Wind don't blow It take the paint off your car And wreck your windshield too, I don't know how the people stand it, But I guess they do Cause they're all still there, Even Johnny Franklin too In the Village of the Sun Village of the Sun Village of the Sun, son (Sun Village to you) Little Mary, and Teddy, and Thelma too Where Palmdale Bouldevard Cuts on through Past the Village Inn & Barbecue (I heard it ain't there... Well I hope it ain't true) Where the stumblers gonna go To watch the lights turn blue Where the stumblers gonna go To watch the lights turn blue-ooo-ooo-ooo-ooo-ooo-wahhh? Goin' back home To the Village of the Sun Out in back of Palmdale Where the turkey farmers run, I done Made up my mind And I know I'm gonna go to Sun Village, good God I hope the Wind don't blow It take the paint off your car And wreck your windshield too, I don't know how the people stand it, But I guess they do Cause they're all still there, Even Johnny Franklin too In the Village of the Sun Village of the Sun Village of the Sun, son (Sun Village to you) |
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Act I
SCENE FIVE THE WET T-SHIRT CONTEST After a few weeks on the bus, being porked by Toad-O's road crew, and being too exhausted to do their laundry on a regular basis, MARY is dumped in Miami. With no money (and no other famous rock groups due into the area for at least three weeks), she tries to pick up a few bucks by entering the Wet T-Shirt contest at The Brasserie... IKE: Looks to me like something funny Is going on around here People laughin' 'n' dancin' 'n' payin' Entirely too much for their beer And they all think they are Clean outa-site And they're ready to party "Cause the sign outside says it's WET T-SHIRT NITE 'N' they all crave some Hot delight Well the girls are excited Because in a minute They're gonna get wet 'N' the boys are delighted Because all the titties Will get 'em upset 'N' they all think they are Reety-awright 'N' they're ready to boogie 'Cause the sign outside says it's WET T-SHIRT NITE 'N' they all crave some Pink delight When the water gets on'em Their ninnies get rigid 'N' look pretty bold It's a common reaction That makes an attraction Whenever it's cold 'N'all of the fellas They wish they could bite On the cute little nuggets The local girls are showin' off tonite You know I think it serves 'em right You know I think it serves 'em right You know I think it serves 'em right You know I think it serves 'em right And it's WET T-SHIRT TIME AGAIN I know you want someone to show you some tit! BIG ONES! WET ONES! BIG WET ONES! At this point, FATHER RILEY (who had been recently de-frocked for not meeting his quota, and has grown his hair out and bought a groovy sport coat and moved to Miami and changed his name to BUDDY JONES) steps onto the crowded bandstand in his exciting new role as a WET T-SHIRT CONTEST EMCEE... BUDDY JONES: Ah, thanks, IKE... Yes, it's WET T-SHIRT TIME AGAIN Here at The Brasserie... Home of THE TITS... huh huh... And it's the charming Mary from Canoga Park Up next in her bid for the semi-finals... Hi,Mary...howya doin? Having been fucked senseless by the boys in the crew, MARY does not recognize the former religious personage from her nights in the rectory basement during which she acquired her basic manual skills… confounded by his sport coat, she replies... MARY: Hi! Realizing that she no longer recognizes him... or even appreciates the patient religious training he had given her in the past, BUDDY JONES, like a true WET T-SHIRT EMCEE type person, proceeds to say various stupid things to waste time, making the contest itself take longer, thereby giving the mongoloids squatting on the dance floor an opportunity to buy more exciting beverages. . . liquid products that will expand their consciousnesses to the point whereby they might more fully enjoy the ambiance of Miami By Night... BUDDY JONES: Where ya from? MARY: Ah, the bus... BUDDY JONES: Which one? MARY: You know...the last tour... You know... Leather BUDDY JONES: Oh.. .you were the girl that was stuck to seat 38 on Phydeaux III... why don't you get in position now and take a deep breath, because this water is very, very cold, but it's goin' to be so stimulating. And Mary's the kind of Red-Blooded American Girl who'll do anything... MARY: Anything... BUDDY JONES: I said anything... for fifty bucks That's right! MARY: I really need the fifty bucks you know I gotta get home! BUDDY JONES: Yeh, I know, your father is waiting for you in the tool shed... that's right,you heard right... our big prize tonight is fifty American Dollars to the girl with the most exciting mammalian protruberances... MARY: Here I am! BUDDY JONES: ... as viewed through a thoroughly soaked, stupid looking white sort of male person's conservative kind of middle-of-the-road COTTON UNDER-GARMENT! Whoopee! And here comes THE WATER! MARY: EEEK! BUDDY JONES: No, you'd squeak more if the water got on you ...sounds like you just got an ice pick in the forehead... AND HERE COMES THE ICE PICK IN THE FOREHEAD... a million laughs, Mary! Anyway; good golly, what a mess...she's totally soaked.. totally committed to the fifty bucks.. .That's it just step into the spotlight.. let the guys get a good look at ya honey! MARY: Here I am! BUDDY JONES: Whaddya say, fellas? Nice setta jugs? Now Mary, how's about shakin' it around a little... BUDDY JONES: Oh my goodness, look at her go! MARY: Oooh! I'm dancing! I'm dancing! BUDDY JONES: Ain't this what living is really all about! Here's your fifty bucks, Mary... MARY: Oh great! Now I can go home! BUDDY JONES: Home is where the heart is. MARY: On the bus. |
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