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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 |
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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 |
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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! |
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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... |
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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) 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 |
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