Rare
Songs and Covers III
Back to
Lyrics
Opinion
Pay To Play
Pen Cap Chew
Raunchola
Return Of The Rat
Rio
Sappy
Spank Thru
Spectre / Misery Loves Company
Talk To Me
The End
The Priest They Called Him
Verse Chorus Verse
Yes, She's My Skinhead
You've Got No Right / On The Mountain
Opinion
Congratulations you have won
It's a years subscription of bad puns.
And it makes your story our concern
And you set it up for returns (Alt: You said it all and you glory
burns)
My opinions. Mmm. Mmm. (x4)
And there seems to be a problem here.
Your state of emotion seems to clear.
You rise and fall like wall street stock
And they had an affect on our happy talk.
Our opinions. Mmm. Mmm. (x2)
My opinions. Mmm. Mmm. (x2)
Congratulations you have won
It's a years subscription of bad puns.
And it makes your story our concern
And you set it up for returns (Alt: You said it all and you glory
burns)
Our opinions. Mmm. Mmm.
Your opinions. Mmm. Mmm. (x3)
My opinions. Mmm. Mmm.
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Pay
To Play
Monkey see, monkey do -- I don't know why I
Walk around, follow you -- I don't know why I
Throw it out, keep it in -- I don't know why I
Have to have poison skin -- I don't know why I
Pay
Pay to play
Walk an inch, take a mile -- I don't know why I
Never faded, never smiled -- I don't know why I
Never mind, eat and run -- I don't know why I
Fuck your ass, for the fun -- I don't know why I
I don't know why I
Pay
Pay to play
Early version of "Stay Away"
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Pen
Cap Chew
Ummm, lies again (Alt: Once again)
Ummm, mine
Ummm, mmmm
You go, you give, you get, you get to me
All the years of tyrants such an easy way to go
You go, you give, you get, you get to me
Time to struggle and the scaling of fingernails
Ummm, lies again (Alt: Once again)
Ummm, mine
Ummm, mmmm
You're lonely
Waste your time by saying he was gullible
Give up all additions in there where it's cold
Push that gate, it is the age of red eye shame
Protest swine, go to jail, the travesty
Two minutes slow...slow...slow...oh
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Raunchola
/ Run, Rabbit, Run
If it's a hard, cold beat
You can go dance every night
You won't get it shown
It won't be missing the spice
You won't know that it hit ya
Nothing'll make you win
Even the law won't fight
Yeah!
Looking to make your winning
Even if it makes you look nice
You got a sound that's nice
Watching the days go by
You can't go to the day lord's house
We don't have no doubt
We go to too many cocktails
Pimples in way..
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Return
of the Rat
You better watch out
You better beware
They're coming from all sides of the country
You better beware
Return of the rat
No, no, no, no!
You better confess
You had better confess
You start to confess and see them through it
You better confess
Originally by Greg Sage and the Wipers
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Rio
Wow!
Moving on the floor now babe you're a bird of paradise
Cherry ice cream smile I suppose it's very nice
With a step to your left and a flick to the right
You catch that mirror way out west
You know you're something special
And you look like you're the best
Her name is rio and she dances on the sand
Just like that river twisting through a dusty land
And when she shines she really shows you all she can
Oh rio rio dance across the rio grande
I've seen you on the beach and I've seen you on tv
Two of a billion stars it means so much to me
Like a birthday or a pretty view
But then I'm sure that you know it's just for you
Hey now look at that did he nearly run you down
at the end of the drive the lawmen arrive you make me feel
Alive, alive, alive
I'll take my chance cause luck is on my side
I tell you something I know what you're thinking
I tell you something I know what you're thinking
Her name is rio and she dances on the sand
Just like that river twists across a dusty land
And when she shines she really shows you all she can
Oh rio rio dance across the rio grande
Her name is rio she don't need to understand
I might find her if I'm looking like I can
Oh rio rio hear them shout across the land
From mountains in the north down to the rio grande
Originally by Duran Duran
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Sappy
And if you say your prayers
You will make God happy
And if you do what's true
You will make me happy
I'll keep you in a jar
And you will seem happy
I'll give you breathing holes
You will think you're happy, now
You're in a laundry room
You're in a laundry room
You're in a laundry room
And if you save yourself
You will make him happy
He'll bring you fine rewards
Then you will feel happy
I'll keep you in my room
I'm sure you'll be happy
And if you save your soul
You will think you're happy now
You're in a laundry room
You're in a laundry room
You're in a laundry room
You're in a laundry room
Early version of "Verse Chorus
Verse", called "Sappy".
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Verse
Chorus Verse
And if you save yourself
You will make him happy
He'll keep you in a jar
And you'll think you're happy
He'll give you breathing holes
And you'll think you're happy
He'll cover you with grass
And you'll think you're happy now
You're really in a laundry room
You're really in a laundry room
The clue just came to you, oh
And if you cut yourself
You will think you're happy
He'll keep you in a jar
Then you'll make him happy
He'll give you breathing holes
Then you'll think you're happy
He'll cover you with grass
Then you'll think you're happy now
You're really in a laundry room
You're really in a laundry room
The clue that came to you, oh
You're really in a laundry room
You're really in a laundry room
The clue that came to you, oh
And if you fool yourself
You will make him happy
He'll keep you in a jar
Then you'll think you're happy
He'll give you breathing holes
Then you will seem happy
You'll wallow in his shit
Then you'll think you're happy now
You're really in a laundry room
You're really in a laundry room
You're really in a laundry room
The clue that came to you, oh
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Spank
Thru
This song is for lovers out there
And the little light in the trees
And all the flowers have gingivitis
And the birds fly happily
We're together once again my love
I need you back, oh baby baby
I can't explain just why we lost it from the start
Living without you girl, you'll only break my heart...
I can feel it I can hold it I can rub it I can shape it
I can mold it I can cut it I can taste it I can spank it
Beat it Masterbate it
I been looking for days now
Always hearing the same ol'
City boy won't you spank thru?
I can make you do things you won't think you ever could
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Spectre / Misery Love Company
To hope is admittance
Feed before beginning
Double-sided cynics
Reflected images
Don't be so selfish
Leaving me this
Follow it far
To find where you are
You haven't grown
Go on alone
Never finished his sentence
Remained in seclusion
For the next few days
Family is circuling
He having moved up
All the styles of heresy
Finally he appeared unexpectedly
Looking for company
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Talk
To Me
Shake it down easy, shake it down sleazy, come on
Shake it down easy, shake yourself, Suzy, come on
Don't let me detain you
Try to ride along
Don't you lie, knowing
I am not sad
I am not silly
I am not chippin'
I am not chippin' away
Talk to me
In your own language, please
In your own
Talk to me
In your own language please
Shake it down easy, make it sound seamy, doll man
Make it sound now, make it full house, sad man
Leader of the band
Makes a mental hell
I won't weather it well
Well I never
Saw it with my arm
Paint it with my heart
Paint it with my eyes and make it right
Lay down easy, lay it down seamy, sad man
Lay down easy, lay it down seamy, sad man
You don't want to hear this
Nothin' but a whore
I will play the leader
With pain
Now you know I'm needy
Lay them down easy
Lay them down easy
Talk to me
In your own language please
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The
End
This is the end
My only friend, the end
This is the end
My only friend, the end
I'll offer you some
I'll offer you sexualism and a masculin man
You can rephrase my friend
The killer woke up in Belgium
And he poured alot of syrup on his waffle
And he walked down the hall
And he said, all I want is to have some hasbrowns and some grits
And then he walked out of the hall
And then he said, listen I got a quarter in my pocket
And I see that waffle house jukebox
And I'm gonna walk up to the coinslot
And then there's a direst line between my pupil and that coinslot
And I lift that quarter out of my pocket
And I say, I wanna hear the waffle house theme
So I walk up to the jukebox, And I said
Come on in
I believe I will, I belive I will
At the waffle house
I got a six pack and nothin to do
Originally by The Doors
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The
Priest
They Called Him
"Fight tuberculosis, folks." Christmas Eve, an old
junkie selling Christmas seals on North Park Street.
The "Priest," they called him. "Fight
tuberculosis, folks."
People hurried by, gray shadows on a distant wall.
It was getting late and no money to score.
He turned into a side street and the lake wind hit him like a
knife.
Cab stop just ahead under a streetlight.
Boy got out with a suitcase. Thin kid in prep school clothes,
familiar face, the Priest told himself, watching from the
doorway.
"Remindsme of something a long time ago." The boy,
there, with his overcoat
unbuttoned, reaching into his pants pocket for the cab fare.
The cab drove away and turned the corner. The boy went inside
a building. "Hmm, yes, maybe" - the suitcase was there
in the doorway.
The boy nowhere in sight. Gone to get the keys, most likely,
have to move fast. He picked up the suitcase and started for the
corner.
Made it. Glanced down at the case. It didn't look like the case
the boy had,
or any boy would have. The Priest couldn't put his finger on what
was so
old about the case. Old and dirty, poor quality leather, and
heavy.
Better see what's inside. He turned into Lincoln Park, found an
empty place and opened the case. Two severed human legs that
belonged to
a young man with dark skin. Shiny black leg hairs glittered in
the
dim streetlight. The legs had been forced into the case and he
had to use
his knee on the back of the case to shove them out. "Legs,
yet,"
he said, and walked quickly away with the case.
Might bring a few dollars to score. The buyer sniffed
suspiciously.
"Kind of a funny smell about it." "It's just
Mexican leather."
"Well, some joker didn't cure it."
The buyer looked at the case with cold disfavor.
"Not even right sure he killed it, whatever it is.
Three is the best I can do and it hurts. But since this is
Christmas
and you're the Priest..." he slipped three bills under the
table into the
Priest's dirty hand. The Priest faded into the street shadows,
seedy
and furtive. Three cents didn't buy a bag, nothing less than a
nickel.
Say, remember that old Addie croaker told me not to come back
unless
I paid him the three cents I owe him. Yeah, isn't that a fruit
for ya,
blow your stack about three lousy cents.
The doctor was not pleased to see him.
"Now, what do you WANT? I TOLD you!"
The Priest laid three bills on the table. The doctor put the
money in his pocket and started to scream.
"I've had TROUBLES! PEOPLE have been around!
I may lose my LICENSE!" The Priest just sat there, eyes, old
and heavy with
years of junk, on the doctor's face.
"I can't write you a prescription." The doctor jerked
open a drawer
and slid an ampule across the table. "That's all I have in
the OFFICE!"
The doctor stood up. "Take it and GET OUT!" he
screamed, hysterical.
The Priest's expression did not change.
The doctor added in quieter tones, "After all, I'm a
professional man,
and I shouldn't be bothered by people like you."
"Is that all you have for me? One lousy quarter G? Couldn't
you lend
me a nickel...?" "Get out, get out, I'll call the
police I tell you."
"All right, doctor, I'm going." Of course it was cold
and far to walk,
rooming house, a shabby street, room on the top floor.
"These stairs," coughed the Priest there, pulling
himself up along the
bannister. He went into the bathroom, yellow wall panels,
toilet dripping, and got his works from under the washbasin.
Wrapped in brown paper, back to his room, get every drop in the
dropper.
He rolled up his sleeve. Then he heard a groan from next door,
room eighteen. The Mexican kid lived there, the Priest had passed
him on
the stairs and saw the kid was hooked, but he never spoke,
because he
didn't want any juvenile connections, bad news in any language.
The Priest had had enough bad news in his life.
He heard the groan again, a groan he could feel, no mistaking
that groan
and what it meant. "Maybe he had an accident or something.
In any case, I can't enjoy my priestly medications with that
sound coming
through the wall." Thin walls you understand. The Priest put
down his
dropper, cold hall, and knocked on the door of room eighteen.
"Quien es?" "It's the Preist, kid, I live next
door."
He could hear someone hobbling across the floor.
A bolt slid. The boy stood there in his underwear shorts, eyes
black with
pain. He started to fall. The Priest helped him over to the bed.
"What's wrong, son?" "It's my legs, senor, cramps,
and now I am without
medicine." The Priest could see the cramps, like knots of
wood there
in the young legs, dark shiny black leg hairs.
"A few years ago I damaged myself in a bicycle race,
it was then that the cramps started." And now he has the leg
cramps back
with compound junk interest. The old Priest stood there, feeling
the boy
groan. He inclined his head as if in prayer, went back and got
his dropper.
"It's just a quarter G, kid." "I do not require
much, senor."
The boy was sleeping when the Priest left room eighteen.
He went back to his room and sat down on the bed.
Then it hit him like heavy silent snow. All the gray junk
yesterdays.
He sat there received the immaculate fix. And since he was
himself a priest,
there was no need to call one.
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Yes,
She Is My Skinhead
I said I want to meet you aah
I said I want to fuck you inside
I said I want to fuck you aah
I said I want to meet you inside
I said I want to meet you aah
I said I want to fuck you inside
I said I want to fuck you aah
I said I want to meet you
Yes she is my skinhead girl
Yes she is my skinhead
Yes she is my skinhead girl
Yes she is my little pet
I'm fuckin all set to beat you
Keep keepin' all the lovely faces
Mathematic I'm a over and I'll race it
Stop sulking and I ought to trace it
Yes she is my skinhead girl
Yes she is my skinhead
Yes she is my skinhead girl
Checkinist girl this girl is world
Yaaahhh!!!
Ah
Aaahhh!!
I'll tell you what's good to look now
Can all it be impossible
When a villain in the face of God
On a Sunday
And I feel like a motivation
I'm on a mission to kill myself
Yes she is my skinhead girl
Yes she is my skinhead
Yes she is my skinhead girl
Checkinist girl this girl is (my) world
Yes she is my skinhead girl
She's gonna take me for a whirl
Yes she is my skinhead girl
Yes she is my little pet
Make ready for affection
But I met my love
Originally by Unrest
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You've
Got No Right / On The Mountain
I don't need to love again
I won't sigh and mope again
I don't need to love again
I just don't think it's worth it
I don't really love her
I don't think I want her
Ain't gonna take to love again
It's the way your love hurts
It's the way your mad again
I don't think I'll love again
I won't ever promise her
I don't think I want her
This time no one else
I don't bear to follow you
I don't ever promise you
Sometimes I don't love you
Think I'm tired of loving her
I don't really want love
Hey, hey, hey, hey
You know you're right
You told me to follow him
Teach him that I loved him
I won't ever promise you
I won't even bother to
You gave me my first kiss
I don't think I want it now
I don't ever want again
It's all that I had to have
It's all that I wanted
It's all that I had to
I don't think I'll miss her
I don't think I want her
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