Drop Dead — текст песни (Frank Zappa)





Frank zappa (guitar, synclavier)

Steve vai (guitar)

Ray white (guitar, vocals)

Tommy mars (keyboards)

Chuck wild (piano)

Arthur barrow (bass)

Scott thunes (bass)

Jay anderson (string bass)

Ed mann (percussion)

Chad wackerman (drums)

Ike willis (vocals)

Terry bozzio (vocals)

Dale bozzio (vocals)

Napoleon murphy brock (vocals)

Bob harris (vocals)

Johnny "guitar" watson (vocals)



Harry:

Jesus, that was terrific! Ive never experienced anything quite like that in a theater before! how bout you, rhonda?



Rhonda:

Youre a worm, harry. drop dead. god, youre disgusting! dont touch me! yuck! what is this scum on your chest? did that little rubber mammy do something on you?



Thing-fish: (alarmed)

Obdewlla! you lil vagrant! what you been up to wit de chump over deahh? lemme see yo draws! uh-huhhhh! jes couldnt hep yseff, could ya! pheww! you best be washin dat thang off, dahlin!

Ws wes sposed ta be un-destructable, but what you got ripenin down dere be puttin us all to de test! yow!



The evil prince tap-dances over to thing-fish, harry & rhonda.



Evil prince: (fake broadway singing)

Persnally, dahlin, I found de pre-formnence wit de brief-case to be un-creedably stim-u-lat-nin!



Rhonda:

Eat shit, you overbearing male chauvinist member of the scientific community!



Thing-fish:

What a sweet lil hunk o heaven she growed up tbe! when she were deflateable, she dint say nothin...jes kept her face open like dis... waitin fo de salami dat never rived! now she fuckin d

Efcase, dumpin de paper all over de flo, hair up in a ugly ol bun, fountain pen danglin out her asshole, an talkin dirty to a member o de royal famly!



Girl! dis cocksucker mights be evil, but he am a prince! now he be talkin de vernak-luh, is findin it considrubly mo cornvemient to in- demnify wit his point-o-view!



Evil prince:

Sho nuff! um-hmm! yeah! you a wise ol mammy! where you fum, rijnlyy?



Thing-fish:

Why...uh...saint loomis!



Evil prince:

Goddam! I knew it! I knew it! I could jes make it out from yo renunciation! sho get hot down deahh in de summer time!



Thing-fish:

Dat no lie...people be croakin all over de fuckin place! I sees yall like dat sort o thang...jedgin fum yo wad-robe, yall be well into death n pestilence n shit! probly got yo-seff qu

Ome spensive educashnin goin fo ya!



Evil prince:

Oh yeah! oh yeah! heh-heh! saint loomis! damn! some de zomby-folk up de lab-mo-tory got kin deah!



Thing-fish:

Naw! really? caint be!



Evil prince:

Oh hell yeah! de ugly dead muthafucker on de string deahh...he related to a buncha other ugly dead muthafuckers fum de east side...n de curly-headed shot lil ugly dead muthafucker wit de dead

Been fuckin de police commissioner!



Thing-fish:

How you know so much bouts what gwine on down deahh, you evil cocksucker! yall been stayin quite well un-formed fum bein in de lab-mo-tory most yo time!



Evil prince:

Jes might distress yo ass to loin dat on de way home fum de san quentim tater mashin speri- ment, me n de country westin muzishnins drop by de college to receive an honorary degree!



Thing-fish:

You lyin, boy! dey givin degrees in tater husbandry back de ol alma-motta!



Evil prince:

Dat all dey givin any mo! muthafuckin tater husbandry be de wave o de futchum in saint loomis! graduatin class were over 700, n evvy one of em dealin wit dem taters like de shrimp-mur

S down at benny-hannys!



Thing-fish: (looking down at obdewlla)

What? huh? you wanna what? obdewlla, de prince jes be shootin de home-town shit heahh! he aint gwine give us no mo provlem! what you mean, girl? okay, okay! go head n fuck de lil crab-gr

Aby wit de enormous white pompadour! go on deah. git down wit yo nasty lil ol degenerate seff!



Thing-fish puts the crab-grass baby on the floor and positions obdewlla over it. he places his foot on obdewllas back and pumps both of them up and down. as the computer- speech drones on, th

Ish watches the spectacle, commenting...



Thing-fish: (contd.)

Twist n shout! work it on out (n in)! hmmm! get down! go on! give him a little shoe! dats what denny be doin...work on jumbo evvy time! go on! get de lil pompadour up in de air again! I lik

Part! hmmm! jes like de olympics!



Harry:

Its-its fascinating the way things are resolving themselves around here! i-i never would have sus- pected anything like this when we came in!



Rhonda:

Where are your real clothes, harry? are you going back to long island like that?



Harry:

I have nothing to be ashamed of! I have a lovely body. everyone will understand! ive-ive accom- plished something tonight! I really believe that! Ive found a sort of fulfilment other men only

M about!



Rhonda: (naked, re-stuffing the briefcase)

Youve accomplished nothing! nothing at all! youre a mere worm...less than that...youre a useless all-american man-worm! the most disgusting creature on the face of the earth. phooey on you!

S like you would be nothing without me and my kind! we are the future, harry! not you! we dont need you and your kind, because our kind is the best kind!



Man-kind is shit, harry! our kind will get rid of your kind, just like wiping off this fountain pen, harry! smell it quick, you submissive little cocksucker, cause Im wiping it off... any minu

W!



This is symbolism, harry! really deep, intense, thought-provoking broadway symbolism! this isnt dream girls, harry! this is the way it really is...im talking to you, harry! we hate you! we a

Dern, harry! you are not modern! worms are not modern!



While you became lawyers and accountants, and read playboy and bought a pipe, we planned and dreamed and fucked our briefcases while you werent looking! yes, harry! thats right! and weve actu

Been able to reproduce ourselves that way...for years, harry, but you never knew! did you? you worm.



We had special atomic glasses made...by women optometrists who promised never to tell!



We learned how to hide secret stuff, wrapped up in the middle of those severe terminal buns we wear! little transmitters, harry! little receivers! oh...dont pretend to be surprised, harry! we e

Ad room left over in there for all of our most favorite little embroidered delicate secretly feminine child-like helpless pathetic sentimental totally useless personal girl-things that smell l

He stuff they put in the toilet paper. you played golf! you watched football! you drank beer! we evolved! we only look like wandas and rhondas! we are superb, harry! we are sublime! we are perfe

Every way! and you? what are you? you are the all-american cocksucker...jizzing all over your leather cocksucker costume after beating the snot out of yourself with a rubber mammy!



I simply cant respect you, harry! you are no good. go ahead! smell the pen! go on...im wip- ing it harry...there you go...



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