Frank Zappa - Zappa In New York (2004) by Frank Zappa (보컬) on maniadb.com

I am gross and perverted
I'm obsessed 'n deranged
I have existed for years
But very little has changed
I'm the tool of the Government
And industry too
For I am destined to rule
And regulate you

I may be vile and pernicious
But you can't look away
I make you think I'm delicious
With the stuff that I say
I'm the best you can get
Have you guessed me yet?
I'm the slime oozin' out
From your TV set

You will obey me while I lead you
And eat the garbage that I feed you
Until the day that we don't need you
Don't go for help . . . no one will heed you
Your mind is totally controlled
It has been stuffed into my mold
And you will do as you are told
Until the rights to you are sold

That's right, folks . . .
Don't touch that dial

Well, I am the slime from your video
Oozin' along on your livin' room floor

I am the slime from your video
Can't stop the slime, people, lookit me go

I am the slime from your video
Oozin' along on your livin' room floor

I am the slime from your video
Can't stop the slime, people, lookit me go

Frank Zappa (lead guitar, vocals)
Ray White (rhythm guitar, vocals)
Eddie Jobson (keyboards, violin, vocals)
Patrick O'Hearn (bass, vocals)
Terry Bozzio (drums, vocals)
Ruth Underwood (percussion, synthesizer)
Don Pardo (vocals)
David Samuels (vibes)
Randy Brecker (trumpet)
Mike Brecker (tenor saxophone, flute)
Lou Marini (alto saxophone, flute)
Ronnie Cuber (baritone saxophone, clarinet)
Tom Malone (trombone, trumpet, piccolo)
John Bergamo (percussion over-dub)
Ed Mann (percussion over-dub)
Louanne Neil (osmotic harp over-dub)

There's a big dilemma
'Bout my Big Leg Emma, uh-huh, oh yeah
There's a big dilemma
'Bout my Big Leg Emma, uh-huh, oh yeah
She used to knock me out
Until her face broke out

There's a big dilemma
'Bout my Big Leg Emma, uh-huh, oh yeah
There's a big dilemma
'Bout my Big Leg Emma, uh-huh, oh yeah
She was my steady date
Until she put on weight

na-na-na-na
na-na-na-na
na-na-na-na
na-na-na-na
na-na-na-na
na-na-na-na
na-na-na-na
na-na-na-na
na-na-na-na
na-na
boogedy boogedy

na-na-na-na
na-na-na-na
na-na-na-na
na-na-na-na
na-na-na-na
na-na-na-na
na-na-na-na
na-na-na-na
na-na-na-na
na-na
boogedy boogedy
There's a big dilemma
'Bout my Big Leg Emma, uh-huh, oh yeah
There's a big dilemma
'Bout my Big Leg Emma, uh-huh, oh yeah
She used to knock me out
Until her face broke out
She used to knock me out
Until her face broke out

Terry Bozzio (drums)
Roy Estrada (vocals, bass)
Adrian Belew (guitar)
Ed Mann (percussion)
Patrick O'Hearn (bass)
Tommy Mars (keyboards)
Peter Wolf (keyboards)

Alright!
What's this?
Thank you! What? OK!
Thank you! Wait a minute!
Ah...take these...
OK!

In today's rapidly changing world
Rock groups appear every fifteen minutes,
Utilising some new promotional device.
Some of these devices have been known
To leave irreparable scars
On the minds of foolish young consumers.
One such case is seated before you:
Little skinny Terry 'Ted' Bozzio,
That cute little drummer!
That's right!
Terry recently fell in love
With a publicity-photo of a boy named Punky Meadows...
(Oh Punky!)...
Lead guitar player from a group called Angel.
In the photograph,
Punky was seen with a beautiful shiny hairdo
In a semi-profile which emphasized the pootched out succulence
Of his insolent pouting rictus,
The sight of which drove the helpless young drummer mad with desire!

I can't stand the way he pouts
'Cause he might not be pouting for me!
Punky Meadows, pouting for you?
Ha! You bet sailor!
You mean,
You mean he's not...he's not pouting...
He's not pouting for me?
His hair's so shiny and it's done real nice
'Til I squirm with ecstasy

Punky, Punky, give me your lips to die on!

Oh Punky, isn't it romantic?

Punky, Punky, give me your lips
To die on...I promise not to come in your mouth
Punky, Punky, your album's the shits!
It's all wrong!

I ain't really queer
But if he ever got near
Steven Tyler would PAY to see!
PAY to see!

Punky's lips, Punky's lips
His hair's so shiny,
I love his hips!
I love his teeth and his gums and such!
Punky
(What is it, you homo?)
You're an Angel!
You're too much
(Oh God!)

The boys of my thoughts in my lonely teenage room!

He's been havin' a rash
(No shit!)
That keeps the girls away
(It's true)
Skin doom
(Skin doom)
Is what the doctors say
And that makes me wonder
I wonder what Punky is rehearsing today
I'll just go over, and hear him play
His hair is so pretty...I'd like to bite his neck
I've heard a rumor he's more fluid than Jeff Beck
BUT I AIN'T QUEER
I AIN'T GAY
(He's a little fond of chiffon in a wrist array-ee-ay-ee-ay)
A wrist array-ee-ay
(That's all that is, I swear!)

Punky's lips, Punky's lips!
Oh! I love his hair while eatin' dunk-y chips
Yeah! I love his blink and his blank-blank-blank
Why, maybe he'd like to yank my crank?
YANK IT PUNKY!
YANK IT FASTER!
YANK IT HARDER!
YANK IT ALL NITE LONG!
COME ON PUNKY!
GET FUNKY!

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

I-I, Lord,
I'm fo-o-o-ond of chiffo-on
In a wrist array-ee-ay
Oh oh oh oh!
I-I, I said I'm fo-o-ond of chiffo-on
In a wri-i-i-i-ist array
Come on Punky!
Give me your lips!
Ride on my Venus-trip!

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

Frank Zappa (lead guitar, vocals)
Ray White (rhythm guitar, vocals)
Eddie Jobson (keyboards, violin, vocals)
Patrick O'Hearn (bass, vocals)
Terry Bozzio (drums, vocals)
Ruth Underwood (percussion, synthesizer)
Don Pardo (vocals)
David Samuels (vibes)
Randy Brecker (trumpet)
Mike Brecker (tenor saxophone, flute)
Lou Marini (alto saxophone, flute)
Ronnie Cuber (baritone saxophone, clarinet)
Tom Malone (trombone, trumpet, piccolo)
John Bergamo (percussion over-dub)
Ed Mann (percussion over-dub)
Louanne Neil (osmotic harp over-dub)

And now folks it's time for Don Pardo To deliver our special Illinois Enema Bandit-type announcement Take it away, Don

"This is a true story
About a famous criminal
From right around Chicago
This is the story of Michael Kenyon
A man who's serving time at this very moment
For the crime of armed robbery

It so happened, that at the time of the robbery
Michael, decided to give his female victims
A little enema
Apparently, there was no law against that
But his name lives on
Michael Kenyon
THE ILLINOIS ENEMA BANDIT!"

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...
Boy, he'd just be tyin' 'em up
(They'd be all bound down!)
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
One day he'll have to pay
The police will say, "You're under arrest!"
And the judge would have him for a special guest
The D.A. will order a secret test
And stuff his pudgy little thumbs in the side of his vest
Then they'll put out a call for the jury folks
And the judge would say, "No poo-poo jokes!"
Then they'll drag in the bandit for all to see,
Sayin' "Don't nobody have no sympathy...
HOT SOAP WATER in the FIRST DEGREE!"
And then the bandit might say, "Why is everybody looking' at me?"

WELL DID YOU CAUSE THIS MISERY?
WELL DID YOU CAUSE THIS KINDA MISERY?
WELL DID YOU CAUSE THIS MISERY?
Now, one girl shout: "Let the Bandit be!"

BANDIT ARE YOU GUILTY?
BANDIT ARE YOU GUILTY? TELL ME NOW, WHAT'S
YOUR PLEA?
Another girl shout: "Let the fiend go free!"
ARE YOU GUILTY? BANDIT, DID YOU DO THESE DEEDS?
The Bandit say, "It must be just what they all needs..."
"It must be just what they all needs..."
"It must be just what they all needs..."
"It must be just what they all needs..."
"It must be just what they all needs..."
"It must be just what they all needs..."
etc. repeat

Wanna, wanna, wanna, wanna enema
Enema
repeat...

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)

Flies all green 'n buzzin' in his dungeon of despair
Prisoners grumble and piss their clothes and scratch their matted hair
A tiny light from a window hole a hundred yards away
Is all they ever get to know about the regular life in the day;
An' it stinks so bad the stones been chokin'
'N weepin' greenish drops
In the room where the giant fire puffer works
'N the torture never stops
The torture never stops

Slime 'n rot, rats 'n snot 'n vomit on the floor
Fifty ugly soldiers, man, holdin' spears by the iron door
Knives 'n spikes 'n guns 'n the likes of every tool of pain
An' a sinister midget with a bucket an' a mop where the blood goes down the drain;

An' it stinks so bad the stones been chokin'
'N weepin' greenish drops
In the room where the giant fire puffer works
'N the torture never stops
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 loin's 'n the groin's is soon dispersed
His carvin' style is well rehearsed
He stands and shouts
All men be cursed
All men be cursed
All men be cursed
All men be cursed
And disagree, well no-one durst
He's the best of course of all the worst
Some wrong been done, he done it first

(Well, well) An' he stinks so bad, his bones been chokin'
(Yeah) 'N weepin' greenish drops,
(Well) In the night of the iron sausage,
(Well) Where 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
Who are all those people that he's locked away up there
Are they crazy?,
Are they sainted?
Are they zeros someone painted?,
It has never been explained since at first it was created
But a dungeon like a sin
Requires naught but lockin' in
Of everything that's ever been
Look at hers
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