I like to drive my car fast, nothing in my life seems to last.
My brakes are bad and I'm almost out of gas. I just keep rolling.
Could've been a Viet Vet, might of been this month's gringo, keeping cops
away.
Could of been a Contra, might of been a Sandinista, I just keep rolling.
Scratching got the fever, my T-shirt looks like a glassine. When that firewall
comes down it'll be my bottle and me. Liquid nitrogen is what I drink, when
I go to sleep I try not to think, and it's making me fireproof. Baby baby
you know what I want.
I need a wrestler named Peggy Lee, Peggy Lee Leather. She's got a torso
like a muscle bound sailor, legs look like a bulging young birch tree, I've
got an attitude that's smarter than me. Well I thought about the streak
of promiscuity, then I see things with greater accuity that, this really
is such a very small town.
Green beans, ham hocks, t-bones, chicken legs, all that food wrapped up
real neat in
my refrigerator, well I sure hope it keeps.
Oh those bones, even when the meat's gone it's the taste that keeps the
dogs around.
Pretty girl pretty girl bought you a drink, well it cost me a pretty twenty.
Like I'm sure she'll go home with me. I'm sure there's plenty.
Yeah them bones, even when the meat's gone, it's the taste that keeps the
dogs around.
Well a singer when he gets old what's he gonna do, die or have a reunion?
I heard some fella say "hey don't quit your day job!". I guess
that makes me pretty stupid.
Yeah them bones, even when the meat's gone, it's the taste that keeps the
dogs around
Couple young girls shoulda been home were walking outside the bar, well
the one girl wanted a boy that another one had and she stopped to give her
pause.
Round and round and up and down she was pulling her hair, and the oohs and
ahhs from the crowd drew me in. All at once the cops came just to make it
a scene and it looked like another peace march, like another peace march.
No one wanted any trouble just trying to stay calm, lord I've never seen
so many smiles. Well then the policeman took the girls back home and it
looked like another peace march.
I remember when we'd see the last guy and he was singing those songs of
songs.
All that death and dying pushed me away and I said no way, no way that's
going to happen here.
When's somebody going to write you a love song? When's somebody going to
write you a love song? When's somebody going to take the time to write it
down? When's somebody going to write you a love song?
Well I thought it was paradise, then it turned into these dice you were
rolling.
Yeah your pair of dice, your paradise I'll never see.
Well I guess I coulda taken the time sometime, except it's sad to see we've
seen the same sunset. Yeah your paradise, your pair of dice I'll never roll
right.
You plant some seeds and the seeds don't grow so you buy some corn, the
damn corn don't grow now your're poor, you're poor, you're poor, you gotta
loan.
Well you're poor, and you're poor, and you're down on the floor, you're
down on the floor, and there ain't no more, there ain't no more so you're
down on the floor.
That's cause you're poor. Don't cross that preacher. Don't cross that farmer.
Look's like a posse. It's actually, I guess it's kinda of a small .....,
kinda quiet.
Oh the bars and the cars and the cars and bars, and the court house is tall
and the houses are small. You're just a G-Man.
Well the bucks and the trucks and the trucks and bucks etc.
Don't cross that preacher. Don't cross that farmer.
Look's like a Frankenstein movie around here.
Well the pitchforks and torches and torches and pitchforks, a G-Man is down
and a G-man is dead and this is what was heard to be said: When you're poor
and you're poor and there ain't no more, there ain't no more so you're down
on the floor....
Don't cross that preacher. Don't cross that farmer.
I was closing up late last night, got myself a terrible fright, a fella
put a gun to my ear, he said I want what you got here.
Policeman called him a thief, I thought the fella was pretty neat, it took
him two minutes what would take me a couple of weeks.
And that's coal calling the kettle black.
Asshole, fag or a Jew, all of the things I might call you.
That's coal calling the kettle black.
I like those girls that like to drink, flirt with my friends, sometimes
they don't think. I like those girls with the bleach blond hair, who treat
me like they just don't care.
I even like the girls with the baggy blue jeans. I like just about all these
things.
Don't give me no girls with mood swings.
That last little girl was so good to me, but her moods changed just like
the tide at sea. Sometimes she'd cry for no reason at all, that'll make
me put my foot right through the wall. Sometimes she'd treat me like a king,
next day she sees me treats me like I'm nothing.
I've had about enough of those girls with mood swings.
I finally told the girl, you gotta go. Can't take anymore of them emotional
highs and lows. I said little girl this is bye bye, can't stand to watch
you every day when you cry. Those mood swings just about drive me insane,
can't take anymore, I can't take them things.
Good-bye little girl with mood swings.
Vocals by our friend Al Combs
Lyrics from a poem by Adrian Mitchell
Title is meaningless. The Lut was the name of our alter ego band at practice,
a Danish garage-metal band.
America song by Bunnell. From the "make a wimpy song rock"
school of thought.
Tried to see how long we could play it. Thought it would provoke more criticism/praise
than it did.