Making Fun of Bums
Dad sold the house now I’m homeless too
The world looks kinda big today
Making fun of bums
Bad karma thing to do
I guess I’ll sleep here tonight
I got a real cool poster but no walls to hang it on
And I got this evil head still no walls to bang it on
I wish I was as cool as Calvin
This sorta thing wouldn’t bother me
If I had a billion dollars
I’d buy back my goddamn room
I gotta TV set but nowhere to plug it in
There’s this girl I met but no room to hug her in
Song For A Girl Who Has One
I could go east or I could go west
I can’t decide which way I like best
The girl at Stuckey’s her face was a mess
I could think about you but I’d just get depressed
Passing on the right a kid shoots me hello
I’m somewhere in the middle of New Mexico
I can’t push this truck over 85
And I’ll never get off of this highway alive
I’m on my way I’m on my way I’m on my way
I’m on my way I’m on my way I’m on my way again
I could turn around I could pick you up
You could ride in my truck I could show you lots of stuff
I could go north or I could go south
I can stop this car like I can shut my mouth
I have yet to find a sure thing that I don’t doubt
I can’t think of a thing I can safely think about
Did you ever drive at night blaring Chemical Wire?
Passing station wagons with engines on fire
It’s snowing in the desert and I don’t understand
I vote and I gloat but this land ain’t my land
If you were here I could look at your face
My mind wouldn’t race I wouldn’t feel so out of place
Down in Oklahoma everybody wore hats
They looked at me funny I got out of there fast
I missed a girl by missing her cats
I missed a guy with a sign that said “Mississippi Flats”
Clowns
When I was a kid my dad had pictures of these clowns
He hung them on my wall and wouldn’t let me take them down
I didn’t understand then and I still can’t figure out
What those goddam clowns were so goddam sad about
A clown was my boss at every job I ever had
And clowns run all the record companies that ever said we’re bad
A clown pretended to be a girl who pretended to be my friend
This world is run by clowns who can’t wait for it to end
I have yet to meet a kid who’s not scared to death of clowns
They can’t walk and they don’t talk they got painted on frowns
A clown with a gun’s something I hope I never see
Would he shoot himself or shoot me
A clown taught every class I took, at my old high school
And clowns all wear speedos when they hang out by the pool
Clowns dress up like cops, and threaten to call my folks
This town is filled with clowns who don’t get my jokes
They fall on their asses
It takes lots of practice
I have nightmares filled with clowns and you’re there too
You have a big red nose and stupid floppy shoes
You’re becoming one I can see the signs
I hate clowns almost as much as I hate mimes
My Past Lives
I was Genghis Khan, I was Aristophanes
I was a guy named Urgh in 50,000 BC
I was Rasputin, and all the chicks he had
I was Catherine the Great, I was my mom and dad
I’ve been a butcher, I’ve been a baker, I have been a bookmaker
I have skippered clipper ships and dug for undertakers
I’ve lived to be 98 and I have died when I was 4
I’ve lived thru war and peace and war and war and war and war
I could write a book about my past lives
I should write a book about my past lives
I died three times at Waterloo
This life’s not the best life but at least I’m not you
I was Abe Lincoln, I was all the slaves he freed
This life’s not the best life but at least you’re not me
I been French Noblemen, I been Russian peasants
I been somebodies, nobodies, once I was a pheasant
I was there when Caesar bled, I followed where Moses led
I wrote the words Mohammed said,
Kissed the ground where St. Paul tread
I was best man when Henry wed, put the crown on George’s head
I slept in Washington’s bed, I shot John F. Kennedy dead
I watched Atlantis sink below
Hung out with Bowie at the Alamo
I didn’t like being Edgar Allen Poe
I was sick a lot when I was Rimbaud
I helped the Druids build Stonhenge
Me and Buddha invented Zen
Once I borrowed Shakespeare’s pen
Joan of Arc was my best friend
That’s A Lie
(by J.T. Smith and Rick Rubin, extra words by TMJ)
I’m tired of the stories
That you always tell
Shakespeare couldn’t tell
A story that well
You’re the largest liar
That was ever created
You and Pinnochio
Are probably related
That’s a lie
Hey, that’s me playing harmonica
You’re a liar
Yeah, and I wrote this song, too
Really, I did
LL Cool J came over to my house one day
He heard me humming it
He said, “Hey, that sounds good”
You lied about the things
That you lied about
You even lied to your aunt
When you went down south
You lied and a body builder
Kicked your butt
If you was in Egypt
You’d lie to King Tut
Just one glass of wine with dinner, Officer
L.A., what a great place
No, Mom, I’m not on drugs
Of course I love you
My father said now son
Never tattle never lie
But I think he should have followed
Some of his own advice
I thought I’d own the world
When I turned twenty-one
That’s the last lie
Cuz now the song is done
Overbudget, us?
Hey, we should have lunch
It won’t hurt, believe me
I won’t come in your mouth
Hugo!
Another hero has failed me
He’s a guest VJ on MTV
Jack’s in his corset, Janie’s in her vest
Lou’s hawking scooters and American Express
Guys quote Michael Stipe in bars
To pick up girls who own their cars
While we renounce what we once loved
To prove that we can rise above
Hugo, Hugo
Hugo doesn’t have these faults
Hugo, Hugo
He is pure and he is good
Now don’t believe it when you’re told
“I hope I die before I get sold”
Every great band should be shot
Before they make their Combat Rock
Hugo, Hugo
He won’t ever let me down
Hugo, Hugo
He is pure and he is good
Hugo’s not afraid to cry
Hugo is an OK guy
Kicking (That Gone Fishing Song)
Today I grew up, I woke up I threw up
Girlfriend was snoring, and it was boring
I just turned 23, what did you get for me
I’m having a party and you can’t come
I met my brother’s ghost, I made myself some toast
I took it all in stride, and then I went outside
I climbed up a tree, I shouted look at me
Nobody answered, cuz I have cancer
I feel my body burn, I’ve got a lot to learn
I have lost my pride, I am dissatisfied
Everything tastes sour, I have no power
I cannot sing, I hate everything
Gone fishing
At the hospital, I met this girl
She was a nurse, her favorite song was “Worse”
She said “I really wanna be a dancer
It’s too bad you have cancer,
Cuz we could’ve been best friends
There’s this restaurant I recommend.”
I would just float away
But I’ve got a lot to do today
Life is Flowers
La la la la
Do do do do
Milk the cow, boy
I am cowboy
You are cowgirl
We live in
A very happy farm world
Everything is green
Everything smells nice
Farmer Brown
Gives us advice
Life is good
Life is flowers
There is a house
Atop the hill
Cowboys go in
And don’t come out
Everything is green
Everything smells nice
I think I’d like
To see that house
Connecticut
Come on down to the edge of the woods
We all live at the edge of the woods
Inside a shack at the edge of the woods
Cuz everything happens at the edge of the woods
Join us where it’s safe and good
Me and Peter and the Wolf and the three little pigs
The devil walks his dog at the edge of the woods
The people are small but the houses are big
Come on down, come on down
Come on down to the edge of the woods
Welcome to our home sweet home
We built it for you at the edge of the woods
On every lawn there’s a family of gnomes
They won’t hurt you if you do what you should
We’ll have you for dinner at the edge of the woods
Cuz something’s always cooking at the edge of the woods
Hey good looking at the edge of the woods
We eat Gretel steaks and Red Riding Hoods
It’s dark at night but that’s all right
Thing’s are out of sight inside the woods
There’s nothing to fear, we’re all friends here
You can sleep for years inside the woods
There’s a six foot squirrel named Grip
He lives underneath my bed
He’ll rip off your step-mother’s head
He’ll tear her throat to shreds
Come on down to the edge of the woods
We all live at the edge of the woods
La la la la la at the edge of the woods
Nyeah nyeah nyeah at the edge of the woods
Bad Dog
I have been: bad dog
I am a bad dog
I hang my head in shame
Bad dog is my name
You can hit me with a stick
I know I deserve it
Shame on me
I hang my head in shame
Bad dog is my name
You can tie me to a tree
I know it means you love me
Shame on me
I met this sex nazi
She locked me in her room
She only has sex with me
Every other June
I met this sex nazi
She wants sex on demand
But when she’s not commanding
I can’t even use my hand
1964
People wore dumb hats, and they fell in love
Cities were good things, someone was president
Nobody drank
but they danced just the same
It was over so fast
no one gave it a name
The world was black and white –in 1964
and the cops carried swords — in 1964
and I wasn’t alive in 1964
Everyone got fat, and forgot to have kids
We bought Manhattan, no one fed the fish
The widows taught sewing
they raised the price of stamps
Civil war began
they invented summer camps
Everyone was friends — in 1964
Everyone was poor — in 1964
and I wasn’t alive in 1964
Worse
I don’t sleep anymore
Every passing car just sounds like dropping bombs
And I’ve read all the books
You can see it in the stars and it’s written on our palms
That things are getting worse
People are having shootouts in the middle of the road
I feel like Harold in his hearse
I’ve got to go to Idaho
It’s got me on all fours
Generals running round like crazy dinosaurs
In the USA
We’ve got freedom for sale every day
Planets are lining up
California’s gonna slide into the sea
It’s the third great woe
It’s the thousand year peace
No one wants to hear
Spoon-feed me the good news forget about the rest
Lemmings never fear
I repeat this is only a test
I’m much better now
I was down there for a while, I guess I saw the light
It was crazy, anyhow
No worse than before, I guess you folks were right
Yeah, I’m much better now
Pass me the chips, turn up the radio
I guess I saw the light
It’s five more miles till we get to Idaho
Seasons in the Sun
(lyrics by Jacques Brel/Rod McKuen)
Goodbye Emile my trusted friend
We’ve known each other since we were nine or ten
Together we climbed hills and trees
Learned of love and ABC’s
Skinned our hearts and skinned our knees
Goodbye Emile, it’s hard to die
When all the birds are singing in the sky
Now that the spring is in the air
Pretty girls are everywhere
I wish we could both be there
We had joy we had fun we had seasons in the sun
But the hills we could climb were just seasons out of time
Goodbye Papa please pray for me
I was the black sheep of the family
You tried to show me right from wrong
Too much wine and too much song
Wonder how I got along
Goodbye Papa, it’s hard to die
When all the birds are singing in the sky
Now that the spring is in the air
Little kids are everywhere
Think of me and I’ll be there
We had joy we had fun we had seasons in the sun
But the wine and the song like the seasons have all gone
Goodbye Francoise my trusted wife
Without you I’d have had a lonely life
You cheated lots of times but then
I forgave you in the end
Though your lover was my friend
Goodbye Francoise it’s hard to die
When all the birds are singing in the sky
Now that the spring is in the air
With your lovers everywhere
Just be careful I’ll be there
We had joy we had fun we had seasons in the sun
But the stars we could reach were just starfish on the beach
If I Was A Mekon
If I was a Mekon
I’d drink pints of beer
If I was a Mekon
And talk about Adorno
If I was a Mekon
I’d have a lot of friends
If I was a Mekon
Everything would be ok
I’d have a lot to say
No one would look at me that way
And a Mekon is a really good thing
A Mekon is a really good thing
A Mekon is a really good thing to be
Let me be a Mekon
If I was a Mekon
I would be from Leeds
If I was a Mekon
Maybe I could sleep with Sally
If I was a Mekon
Or Tommy one night in Chicago
If I was a Mekon
We’d smile a lot the next day
We’d never talk about it again
But we’d be that much closer friends
And a Mekon is a really good thing
A Mekon is a really good thing
A Mekon is a really good thing to be
Permettez moi d’etre un Mekon
Train in Vain
The Playboy centerfold is younger than me
She likes family get-togethers and aborigines
I don’t think I can ever masturbate again
I don’t think I will ever steal that magazine from my father again
The playboy centerfold would never talk to me
Because I hate family get-togethers and I’m not an aborigine
I don’t think I can ever feel the same again
I don’t think I will ever sing about my father
I will never sing about my father
I promise not to sing about my father again
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