Zappa '88: The Last U.S. Show

FZ:

Hey! Welcome to the program tonight, folks. This is our last concert date in the United States before we go to Europe, so this is gonna be a big show. We have— We have many special Long Island kinds of things for you tonight. Now, as you know, we are doing voter registration here—have been doing it for the entire tour—and we are going to take yet another intermission for those of you who have not registered, you get one more whack at it—we're gonna take a 20-minute break after we play for about an hour. So I wanna make sure we get as many of you registered as possible here tonight. And to show you how easy it is, I wanna introduce you to Greg Bolognese. Now . . . Say "hi" to everybody, Greg.

Greg:

How you doing?

FZ:

And this is Josh Rubin and Alice Sheff. And what they're gonna do here tonight is they're gonna actually register Greg—a genuine Long Island kind of a guy—we're gonna register him to vote just to show you how easy it actually is. Go over here.

Alice:

On behalf of the League of Women . . .

FZ:

Is it— You've got to talk right into it. Is it working?

Alice:

On behalf of the League of Women Voters— That's better. On behalf of the League of Women Voters I am very pleased to be here for voter registration. Uh, I hope you will all do your civic duty and, and vote. I mean, say "Yes" to vote!

FZ:

All right. Now look at this. Is this hard or what?

Josh:

No. It's pretty easy. It's real easy. If you know your name, if you know where you live, you can register to vote. It's real easy.

FZ:

That's even beyond easy. It's almost embarrasing.

Alice:

Frank, I knew you from the '60s— I knew you from the '60s—you haven't changed a bit.

FZ:

A little bit I did.

Josh:

How're you doing?

FZ:

You're going slow there, Greg. What is this—you've got to think about where you live now?

Greg:

No!

Josh:

You put your first name here.

FZ:

There you go. First name goes on that line.

Josh:

Middle initial.

FZ:

Middle initial.

Josh:

You register for a political party here. Sign your name.

FZ:

He registered Right to Life, ladies and gentlemen! Right to Life! . . . There's one in every crowd . . . And he signed it—

Josh:

And make sure you sign the back.

FZ:

Sign the back, Greg.

Josh:

It's real easy. We have tables out in the lobby outside. Three tables are set up. It's real easy.

FZ:

You know it's gonna be a lot easier for you when you get out there.

Alice:

If you know how to spell your name— If you know how to spell your name, you're home free.

FZ:

Okay, thank you guys. Okay, all right. Okay. I want to introduce you now to Ben Waxman, who is here from Governor Cuomo's office and he has something . . .

Ben Waxman:

I'd just like to read a brief message from the Governor.

FZ:

Please be quiet, so you can hear what he's got to say.

Ben Waxman:

"Dear Mr. Zappa, I would like to take this opportunity to congratulate you for the important work you are doing in encouraging your audiences and others to register and vote.

"The only way in which we can meaningfully control the future in a participatory democracy such as ours is if we register and vote in elections. Although all this is true, too many of our citizens choose not to participate, including young people. They have a variety of reasons. Some people mistakenly believe they can avoid jury duty by not registering, while others don't believe that their vote makes a difference. The truth of the matter is, if you don't register and vote, those who do vote may decide your future, even though you may not agree with them.

"I applaud your message to your fans to register to vote to participate in our democratic process. By sending this message you are helping to make our democracy stronger, our government better, and our future more secure. On behalf of all New Yorkers, I thank you. Sincerely, Mario Cuomo, Governor of New York."

FZ:

Thank you. Okay. Oh, we're gonna need that later.

All right, we're gonna open the show now with a song called "The Black Page."

Okay. Ike Willis. Mike Keneally. Walt Fowler. Bruce Fowler. Paul Carman. Albert Wing. Kurt McGettrick. Chad Wackerman. Ed Mann. Robert Martin. Scott Thunes. And now a song that is older than you are.

Ain't got no heart
I ain't got no heart to give away
I sit and laugh at fools in love
(Ha ha ha)
There ain't no such thing as love
(Ha ha ha)
No angels singing up above today

Girl, I don't believe
Girl, I don't believe in what you say
You say your heart is only mine
(Ho ho ho)
I say to you, you must be blind
(Ha ha ha)
What makes you think that you're so fine
That I would throw away
The groovy life I lead
'Cause, baby, what you got, yeah
It sure ain't what I need

Girl, you'd better go
Girl, you'd better go away
I think that life with you would be
(Ha ha ha)
Just not quite the thing for me
(Ho ho ho)
Why is it so hard to see my way

Why should I be stuck with you
It's just not what I want to do
Why should an embrace or two
Make me such a part of you
I ain't got no heart to give away
Away
Ain't got no heart
Ain't got no heart
I ain't got no heart to give away

Thank you!

Love of my life
I love you so
Love of my life
Don't ever go
I love you only
Love, love of my life

Stars in the sky
They never lie
Tell me you need me
Don't say goodbye
I love you only
Love
(Love)
Love of my life

Stars in the sky
They never lie
Tell me you need me
Don't say goodbye
I love you darling
I love you only
Don't ever leave me
Don't make me
Don't make me
Don't make me lonely

Love of my life
I love you so
Love of my life
Don't ever go
I love you only
Love, love of my life
Love of my life
Love of my life
Love of my life

Did a vehicle
Come from somewhere out there
Just to land in the Andes?
Was it round
And did it have
A motor
Or was it
Something
Different

Stayin' alive
Ah ah ah ah
Mother Mary and Jozuf!

Did a vehicle
Did a vehicle
Did a vehicle
Fly along the mountains
And find a place to park itself
Park itself
(Park it . . . Park it)
Or did someone
Build a place
To leave a space
For such a thing to land

Did a vehicle
Come from somewhere out there
Did a vehicle come
Come from somewhere out there
Did the Indians, first on the bill
Carve up the hill

Guacamole Queen
Guacamole Queen
Guacamole Queen

Her aura

On Bruce
On Bruce
That's Bruce

FZ: Thank you!

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've been lovin' her
Ten long years
And I thought deep down in my heart
She was mine
Ten long years I've been lovin' her
Ten long years
I would call her my baby, and now
I'm always cryin'

I would be so delighted
(I would be)
I would be so delighted
(Yes, I would be)
If they would just
Send her on home to me

I would be so delighted
(Yeah, yes, I would be)
I would be so delighted
(Yes, I would be)
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 home to me
Send my baby home to . . . me

FZ: Thank you!

What's there to live for?
Who needs the Peace Corps?
Think I'll just drop out
I'll go to Frisco
Buy a wig and sleep
On Owsley's floor

Walked past the wig store
Danced at the Fillmore
I'm completely stoned
I'm hippy and I'm trippy
I'm a gypsy on my own
I'll stay a week and get the crabs and
Take a bus back home
I'm really just a phony
But forgive me
'Cause I'm stoned

Every town must have a place
Where phony hippies meet
(Hey, dude!)
Psychedelic dungeons
Popping up on every street
Go to San Francisco . . .

How I love ya, How I love ya
How I love ya, How I love ya, Frisco!
How I love ya, How I love ya
How I love ya, How I love ya
Oh, my hair is getting good in the back!

Every town must have a place
Where phony hippies meet
(Yo, dude!)
Psychedelic dungeons
Popping up on every street
Go to San Francisco . . .

Say . . .

First I'll buy some beads
And then perhaps a leather band
To go around my head
(Nice shirt)
Some feathers and bells
And a book of Indian lore
I will ask the Chamber Of Commerce
How to get to Haight Street
("I mean that")
And smoke an awful lot of dope
I will wander around barefoot
I will have a psychedelic gleam in my eye at all times
I will love everyone
I will love the police as they kick the shit out of me on the street
(Freeze, hippie!)
I will sleep . . .
I will, I will go to a house
That's, that's what I will do
I will go to a house
Where there's a rock & roll band
Because the groups all live together
And I will join a rock & roll band
I will be their road manager
(We will call you Dwayne!)
And I will stay there with them
And I will get the crabs
But I won't care
Because . . .

I left my heart
Oh yes, I did
Way down in San Francisco

(Oh, God! That's an ugly song.)

Moo moo moo moo . . .

(Why don't they have one about Long Island?)

Moo moo moo moo moo . . .
(Oh oh)

Here's a lovely tune . . .

One 'n one is eleven!
Two 'n two is twenty-two!
Won't somebody kindly tell me,
What the government's tryin' t' do . . .
Dickie's just too tricky
For a chump like me to use, yes
You take that sub-committee serious, boy
You just might get a seizure from the evenin' news

Millions 'n millions of dollars . . .
Much as he might need . . .
He could open up a chain of motels, people,
On the highway, yes indeed!

Quadrophonic desperatium!
You know there might be a cable all under your bed, yeah
Well, if you just might break some wind in your slumber (Nurse!)
The FBI is gonna get your number

Gonna get ya
Gonna get ya
Gonna jump up the sub-commitee and get ya!

The FBI
Gonna get your number
The FBI
Gonna get your number
The FBI
Gonna get your number
The FBI
They already got your number
The FBI
And they got your picture too
The FBI
They got some fingerprints from you
The FBI
Now what in the world
The FBI
Those little suckers gonna do?

Gonna get your number
Gonna get your number

Tryin' not to worry
Tryin' not to care
Oh, you know, I get so excited
When the microphone's not there

Can't have no private conversation
Nowhere
In the USA
Can't wait 'til the rest of the people all over the world
Find out that their government
Is just the same ol' way
Every day . . .

Let me tell you about this right now
Let me tell you about this right here
Let me make this perfectly clear
Let me tell you about this right here
You know you put me in office
So you must have wanted me in office
I've did you no harm
I used to have twenty-five tapes
Now I've only got ten
Can't remember what happened to the rest
Musta gave 'em to a friend
Gave a couple to Bebe Rebozo
Gave a couple to Pat Boone
Gave a couple to Ronald Reagan
Gave a couple to George Bush
Gave a couple to Charles Schulz
Gave a couple to Mr. Richard Secord
Gave a couple to Ollie North
He said he'd stick with me through thick and thin
Even if they would impeach me, yeah
And he said he wasn't gonna let 'em
And that he know that I'm not not not not not not not not not not not not not not not a crook
You know I'm not a crook
I wanna tell you one more lie right now . . .

Let me tell you!

The gangster stepped right up,
Kissed him on the lips good-bye
Made him a cock-sucker by proxy, yes he did,
An' he didn't even bat an eye!

The man in the White House—ow!
He's got a conscience black as sin!
There's just one thing I wanna know—
How'd that asshole ever manage to get in?

Sing right along now:

DICKIE'S SUCH AN ASSHOLE
Sincerely, Dick, we mean it
Wee-ooo

There's an ugly little weasel 'bout three-foot nine
Face puffed up from cryin' 'n lyin'
'Cause her sweet little hubby's
Suckin' prong part time
(In the name of The Lord)

Get a clue, little shrew
Oh yeah, oh yeah
Jesus thinks you're a jerk
Would he really choose Tammy to do His Work?

(Let's just think about that for a moment.)

Robertson says that he's The One
Oh he sure is, if Armageddon
Is your idea of family fun,
An' he's got some planned for you!
(Now, tell me that ain't true)

Now, what if Jimbo's slightly gay,
Will Pat let Jimbo get away?
Everything we've heard him say
Indicates that Jim must pay,
(And it just might hurt a bit)
But keep that money rollin' in,
'Cause Pat and naughty Jimbo
Can't get enough of it

Perhaps it's their idea
Of an Affirmative Action Plan
To give White Trash a 'special break';
Well, they took those Jeezo-bucks and ran
To the bank! To the bank! To the bank! To the bank!
And every night we can hear them thank
Their Buddy, up above
For sending down his love
(While you all smell the glove)

Jim and Pat should take a pole
(Right up each saintly glory-hole),
With tar and feathers too—
Just like they'd love to do to you
('Cause they think you are bad—
And they are very mad)
'Cause some folks don't want prayer in school!
(We'd need an ark to survive the drool
Of Micro-publicans, raised on hate,
And 'Jimbo-Jumbo' when they graduate)

Convinced they are 'The Chosen Ones'—
And all their parents carry guns,
And hold them cards in the N.R.A.
(With their fingers on the trigger
When they kneel and pray)

With a Ku-Klux muu-muu
In the back of the truck,
If you ain't Born Again,
They wanna mess you up, screamin':
"No abortion, no-siree!"
"Life's too precious, can't you see!"
(What's that hangin' from a neighbor's tree?
Why, it looks like 'colored folks' to me—
Would THEY do THAT . . .
They've been doin' it for years!
Seriously?)

Claims to be a MAN OF GOD;
Currently seeking the United States Presidency,
Hoping we will all follow him into—
The Twilight Zone

(Good work, Eric! Good!)

What if Pat gets in the White House,
Or even Eric?
(No fuckin' way, Ike,
He ain't getting in this time)
And suddenly
(He's gonna try again in '92)
The rights of 'certain people' disappear
Well, mysteriously?

Now, wouldn't that sort of qualify
As an American Tragedy?
Especially if he covers it up,
("And I mean that")
Sayin', "Jesus told it to me!"
(Just me, babe. Like, we're tight. We're like this.)
I hope we never see that day,
In The Land of The Free—
Or someday will we?
Will we?

And if you don't know by now,
The truth of what I'm tellin' you,
Then, surely I have failed somehow—
(Sigh)
Surely I have failed somehow
(Oh, Tammy, isn't it romantic?)
Surely I have failed somehow

And Jesus will think I'm a jerk, just like you—
If you let those TV Preachers
Make a monkey out of you!
(Tell 'em!)

I said:
"Jesus will think you're a jerk"
And it would be true!

There's an old rugged cross
In the land of the cotton
They keep it burnin' out there on the lawn
But those assholes are still just as rotten

Jim and Tammy!
Oh, baby!
You gotta go!
You really got to go!
Jim and Tammy got to go

All right, we're gonna take a 20 minute intermission. Go out there, get registered. See you in 20 minutes.

 

Okay, folks. This is a special occasion tonight, and I'd like to have you help me out with something if you would. This is Chad Wackerman's 28th birthday. Do you think that— Do you think I could get you to help me sing "Happy Birthday" to Chad? Right. Ready?

Happy birthday to you
Happy birthday to you
Happy birthday, dear Chazzie
Happy birthday to you
(Right!)
(I mean that)
(It's hot)

Now, just to tell you what is going to happen during this part of the show, The Long Island Ballet Company will make a brief appearance during the first number—they've been rehearsing quite a bit for this appearance—they're going to— We're gonna play "Packard Goose" and in the middle of it we're going to insert the "Royal March" from L'histoire du soldat by Stravinsky and so The Long Island Ballet Company will come out and dance to that, and uh, we have to keep the show moving so we won't stop, but just, you know, clap for them when they go off. They'll appreciate it a lot.

Maybe you thought I was the Packard Goose
Or the Ronald MacDonald of the nouveau-abstruse
Well fuck all them people, I don't need no excuse
For being what I am
Do you hear me, then?

All them rock & roll writers is the worst kind of sleaze
Selling punk like some new kind of English disease
Is that the wave of the future?
Aw, spare me please!

Oh no, you gotta go
Who do you write for?
I wanna know
I believe you is the government's whore
And keeping peoples dumb
Is where you're coming from
And keeping peoples dumb
Is where you're coming from

Fuck all them writers with the pen in their hand
I will be more specific so they might understand
They can all kiss my ass
But because it's so grand
They best just stay away
Hey, hey, hey

Hey, Joe, who did you blow?
Moe pushed the button boy
And you went to the show
Better suck a little harder or the shekels won't flow
And I don't mean your thumb
So on your knees you bum
Just tell yourself it's yum
And suck it till you're numb

Journalism's kinda scary
And of it we should be wary
Wonder what became of Mary?

Hi! It's me . . . the girl from the bus . . .
Remember?
The last tour?
Well . . .
Information is not knowledge
Knowledge is not wisdom
Wisdom is not truth
Truth is not beauty
Beauty is not love
Love is not music
Music is THE BEST . . .

The Long Island Ballet Company, ladies and gentlemen!

 

If you're in the audience and like what we do
Well, we want you to know that we like you all too
But as for the sucker who will write the review
If his mind is prehensile
(Mind is prehensile)
He'll put down his pencil
(Put down his pencil)
And have himself a squat
On the Cosmic Utensil
(Cosmic Utensil
Cosmic Utensil)
He really needs to squat
On the Cosmic Utensil
(Cosmic Utensil
Cosmic Utensil)
Go and give it all you got
On the Cosmic Utensil
(Cosmic Utensil
Cosmic Utensil)
Sit 'n spin until you rot
On the Cosmic Utensil
(Cosmic Utensil
Cosmic Utensil)

Now that I got that over with
I'll just play my imaginary guitar again
Say . . .

Say . . .

Thank you!

Flies all green 'n buzzin'
In his dungeon of despair
Prisoners grumble and piss their clothes
And scratch their matted hair
A tiny little 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
The torture
The torture
The torture never stops

Slime 'n rot 'n rats 'n snot
'N vomit on the floor
Fifty ugly lookin' 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
A sinister little midget with a bucket an' a mop
A sinister tiny little 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 loins 'n groins are soon dispersed
His carvin' style is well rehearsed
He stands and shouts
All men be cursed
All men be . . .
All men be . . .
All men be . . .
All men be cursed

(Sorry about that, Frankie!)
It's okay, we understand, Bob, wanna buy some acick?
(Tuna!)
Or are you Tom Petty tonight?
"It's Garry Shandling's Show"
(Of all the worst)
That's— ha ha ha . . .
Well, he's the best of course of all the worst
(He's the best of course of all the worst!)
Some wrong a-been a-done
He done it first
(Some wrong been . . .)

An' he stinks so bad, his bones been chokin'
'N weepin' greenish drops
In the night of the iron sausage
(Oh, John Smothers)
Where the torture never stops
(He done it first)
The torture never stops
(Mustard squirts)
The torture
The torture
The torture never s—

Oh oh, it's time for Bonanza!

I don't know why . . .

Oh, my God . . .
Here we go again
Hello, we want [Paul Zetz]

Yes. I don't know why . . . Oh, my God . . .

My name is Burtram
I am a redneck
All my friends
They call me Burt
(Heil, Bill!)
All my family
From some place in Long Island
Make their livin'
Diggin' dirt

Come out here
To Californy
Just to find me
Some pretty girls
(Yee-hah!)
Ones I see
Gets me so horny
Ruby lips
'N teeth like pearls

Wanna love 'em all
Wanna love 'em dearly
Find some pretty girl
I'll even pay
I'll buy 'em furs
I'll buy 'em jewelry
I know they like me
Here's what I say

Lonesome Cowboy Burt
(Speakin' atcha!)
Come smell my fringe-y shirt
(Reekin' atcha!)
My cowboy pants
My cowboy dance
My bold advance
On this here waitress
Yodel oh-ooh tee ay
Yodel oh-ooh tee . . .

Lonesome Cowboy Burt
Don'tcha get my feelings hurt
Come on in this place
'N I'll buy you a taste
'N you can sit on my face
Where's my waitress?

Burtram, Burtram Redneck
Burtram, Burtram Redneck
(Yes, sir!)

I'm an awful nice guy
I sweat all day in the sun
(Phew)
I'm a roofer by trade
Quite a bundle I've made
I'm unionized roofin' old
Son-of-a-gun
(He's a unionized roofin' old
Son-of-a-gun!)
(Almost didn't make it, everybody!)

And then Sharkey says
When I get off, I get plastered
I drink till I fall on the floor
And I find me some little Communist bastard
(Goddamn Communist)
'N I stomp on his head till he don't
Move no more
(What?)
(Stomp on his head till he don't
Move no more)

I, I, I, I fuss, an' I cuss an' I, I keep on drinkin'
Till my eyes puff up—I, I, I
(You what?)
An' turn red
(I, I, I)
I drool on m'shirt
I see, I, if he's hurt
And then I kick him one more time in the head
I'll show you how I do it, I sorta I, I go, I
Kick him again in the head
Kick him again in the head
(Ouch!)
Kick him again in the head
(I don't know why)
Kick him again in the head

Lonesome Cowboy Burt
(Speakin' atcha!)
Come smell my fringe-y shirt
(Reekin' atcha!)
My cowboy pants
My cowboy dance
My bold advance
On this here waitress
Yodel oh-ooh tee ay
Yodel oh-ooh tee . . .

(He's Lonesome Cowboy Burt)
I, I
(Don'tcha get his feelin's hurt)
I, I, I
Come on in this place
An' I'll buy you a taste
'N you can sit on my face
Where's my waitress?

Opal, you—I, ooh—Opal, you hot little bitch!

Flies all green 'n buzzin'
In his dungeon of despair
Who are all these people
That he's locked away down there
Are they crazy?
Are they sainted?
Are they zeros someone painted?
It's never been explained
Since at first it was created
But a dungeon just like a sin
("It's hot")
Requires naught but lockin' in
Of everything that's ever been
Look at her
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

City of tiny lites
Don't you wanna go
Hear the tiny auto horns
When they tiny blow
Tiny lightnin'
In the storm
Tiny tiny tiny blankets
Gonna keep you warm
Tiny tiny tiny pillows
Tiny tiny sheets
Talkin' 'bout them tiny cookies
That the peoples eat

City of tiny lites
Maybe you should know
That it's over there
In the tiny dirt somewhere

You can see it any time
When you get the squints
From your downers and your wine
You're so big
It's so tiny
Every cloud is silver line-y
The great escape for all of you
Tiny is as tiny do
Tiny is as tiny do
Tiny is as tiny do
Tiny is as tiny do

City of tiny lites
Don't you wanna go
Hear those tiny auto horns
When they tiny blow
Tiny lightnin'
In the storm
Tiny tiny tiny blankets
Gonna keep you warm
Tiny tiny tiny pillows
Tiny tiny sheets
Talkin' 'bout them tiny cookies
That the peoples eats

City of tiny lites
Maybe you should know
That it's over there
Over there
Over there
Over there

 

Jim once had a girl,
Or should we say,
She once had he.
She showed him her room,
Isn't it swell?
Texas Motel.

She asked him to stay and she told him to sit anywhere,
So Jim looked around and he noticed there wasn't a prayer.

Jim sat on a rug
Biding his time,
Pounding his pud.
He prayed until two,
And then she said,
"How 'bout some head?"
("I mean that")

She said she was booked in the morning with Falwell and Pat,
Jim told her he wasn't, and dribbled some spoo in her lap.

And when he awoke,
He was alone,
She'd honed his cone.
So he let her fly,
Isn't it swell?
Texas Motel

Everybody!

Picture yourself with a whore from New Orleans,
With big purple welts, all over her bod.
Suddenly calls, you answer quite slowly,
It's the board from Assembly O' God.

Ignorant crackers like you never seen,
Groveling under your bed.
Search for the girl with the spoo in her lap,
And she's gone.

Louisiana hooker with herpes,
Louisiana hooker with herpes,
Louisiana hooker with herpes.
Owwww!

We saw her go down to a room near the airport,
Where Swaggart gets off watching pornography,
Everyone smiles as we tread through his horseshit,
That grows so incredibly high.

Newspaper writers appear at his door,
Waiting to take Jim away.
He climbs in the back with his head up his ass,
And he's gone.

Louisiana hooker with herpes,
(Everybody!)
Louisiana hooker with herpes,
Louisiana hooker with herpes.
Owwww!

Picture yourself on your own TV station,
With brain-dead supporters with tears in their eyes,
Suddenly someone is there at commercial,
The girl with the pee-hole surprise.

Louisiana hooker with herpes,
(Last chance to sing it!)
Louisiana hooker with herpes,
(I can't hear you!)
Louisiana hooker with herpes.
Owwww! Ow!

One more time!

Louisiana hooker with herpes,
Louisiana hooker with herpes,
Louisiana hooker with herpes.
Owwww! Ow!

Suddenly the evil Swaggart looks at the hooker and says . . .

Let me take you down,
'Cause we're going to the Texas Motel.
Don't mind the smell,
It's nothing to get hung about.
Please leave your cash on the table.

Weeping looks better with eyes closed,
While I'm confessing all my sins.
(I've sinned! I tell you! Come on!)
It's getting hard to plook someone,
But it all works out,
It's all pornography to Jim.
(Him.)

Let me take you down,
'Cause we're going to the Texas Motel.
We might go to hell,
But we'll have lots of company,
Falwell and Pat and that weasel.

No one knows who's in my tree,
I mean it must be high or low.
That is I can't you know tune in,
But it's all right.
That is I think it's not too bad.
Say . . .

Let me take you down,
'Cause we're going to the Texas Motel.
Don't mind the smell,
It's just some jizz from Jimmy-boy.
How 'bout some hay for the donkey?
(Yee-haw!)

No one knows, sometimes think it's me,
(Ed Meese, ladies & gentlemen!)
But you know, I know when—I don't know.
(The golden pheasant himself!)
I think I know, I mean, I guess,
But it's all wrong.
(And we believe him!)
That is I think I disagree.
See . . .

Let me take you down,
'Cause we're going to the Texas Motel.
Don't mind the smell,
It's just some old pornography.
Just keep on strokin' that sausage
Just keep on strokin' that sausage
(Jimmy-boy!)
Just keep on strokin' that sausage.

Ike Willis, Mike Keneally, Walt Fowler, Bruce Fowler, Paul Carman, Albert Wing, Kurt McGettrick, the Birthday Boy Chazzie Wackerman, Ed Mann, Robert Martin, Scott Thunes. Thank you very much for coming to the show. Good night!

Thank you!

Say . . . You don't need it. You don't need it. Pardon me. And I mean that. It's a hot, it's a big . . .

There's a lady who's sure all that glitters is gold
And she's buying a Stairway to Heaven
When she gets there she knows
If the stores are all closed
With a word she can get what she came for
Ooo-oooh
And she's buying a Stairway to Heaven

There's a sign on the wall
But she wants to be sure
Cause you know sometimes words have
Two meanings
In a tree by the brook
There's a songbird who sings
Sometimes all of our thoughts are misleading

(You don't need it.)

Oooh and it makes me wonder
Oh-ooooh and it makes me wonder

There's a feeling I get
When I look to the west
And my spirit is crying for leaving
In my thoughts I have seen
Rings of smoke through the trees
And the voices of those who stand looking

And oooh makes me wonder
("I mean that")
Ow-ow-ow-ow-oh

And it's whispered that soon
If we all call the tune
Then the piper will lead us to reason
And a new day will dawn
For those who stand long
And the forests will echo with laughter
(Laughter . . .)

And it makes me wonder
Ow-ow-ow oh

If there's a bustle in your hedgerow
Don't be alarmed now
It's just a spring clean for the May-queen
Yes there are two paths you can go by
But in the long run
There's still time to change the road you're on

Makes me wonder
Ow-ow-ow-ow-ow-oh
(And I meant that)

Your head is humming and it won't go
In case you don't know
The piper's calling you to join him
Dear lady can you hear the wind blow
And did you know
Your stairway lies on the whispering wind
Oh . . .

And as we wind on down the road
Our shadows taller than our soul
There walks a lady we all know
Who shines white light and wants to know
How everything still turns to gold
And if you listen very hard
The news will come to you at last
When all are one and one is all
To be a rock and not to roll

And she's buying a Stairway to Heaven

I am he
As you are he
As you are me
And we are all together
See how they run
Like pigs from a gun
See how they fly
I'm crying

Sitting on a corn flake
Waiting for the van to come
Corporation T-shirt
Saying bloody Tuesday
Man you've been a naughty
Boy you let your face grow long
I am the egg man
They are the egg men
I am the walrus
Goo goo g'joob

Mister City policeman sitting
Pretty little policeman in a row
See how they fly
Like Lucy in the sky
See how they run
I'm crying, I'm crying
I'm crying, I'm crying

Yellow matter custard
Dripping from a dead dog's eye
Crabalocker fishwife
Pornographic priestess
Boy you've been a naughty
Girl you let your knickers down
I am the egg man
They are the egg men
I am the walrus
Goo goo g'joob

Sitting in an English garden
Waiting for the sun
And if the sun don't come you get a tan
From standing in the English rain
(Nice tan!)
I am the egg man (now good sir)
They are the egg men (man, made tame to fortune's blows)
I am the walrus
Goo goo g'joob, goo goo goo g'joob

Expert texpert choking smokers
Don't you think the joker laughs at you
(Ho ho ho, hee hee hee, hah hah hah)
See how they smile
Like pigs in a sty
See how they snide
I'm crying

Semolina Pilchard
Climbing up the Eiffel Tower
The lementary penguin singing Hare Krishna
Man you should have seen them
Kicking Edgar Allen Poe
I am the egg man
They are the egg men
I am the walrus
Goo goo g'joob, goo goo goo g'joob
Goo goo g'joob, goo goo goo g'joob, goo goo
Joob, joob

I been run down
Lord, 'n I been lied to
And I don't know why
I let that mean woman make me a fool

Well, she took all my money
'N wrecked my new car
Now she's with one of my good-time buddies,
Drinkin' in some cross-town bar

Sometimes I feel
Well, sometimes I feel
Like I been
Tied to the whippin' post
Tied to the whippin' post
Tied to the whippin' post
Good Lord, I feel like I'm dyin'

My friends tell me
Oh, that I been such a fool
I have to stand back an' take it, babe
All for loving you

I drown myself in sorrow
As I look at what you've done
But nothin' seems to change;
That bad times stay the same,
And I can't run

Sometimes I feel
Well, sometimes I feel
Like I been
Tied to the whippin' post
Tied to the whippin' post
Tied to the whippin' post
Oh, good Lord, I feel like I'm dyin'

Lord
Oh, Lord, no
Yeah, baby
Been tied down

Sometimes I feel
Well, sometimes I feel
Like I been
Tied to the whippin' post
Tied, baby, to the whippin' post
Tied to the whippin' post
Lawd-no-oooh!
Hey, Lord Lord Lord, no
You know sometimes I really do believe
Well, I believe
(Yeah)
I said I believe
I said I do believe
I said I really do believe
I'm gonna say it one more time, I believe
There just ain't no such thing
As dyin'

Zappa!

Thank you! Hey! Surprise for you now.