Odelay
Album - 17 giugno 1996 - Debaser id 14

Something's wrong 'cause my mind is fading,
And everywhere I look there's a dead end waiting.
Temperature's dropping at the rotten oasis.
Stealing kisses from the leperous faces.
Heads are hanging from the garbage man trees.
Mouthwash, jukebox, gasoline.
Pistols are pointing at a poor man's pockets,
Smiling eyes ripping out of his sockets.

Got a devil's haircut in my mind.
Got a devil's haircut in my mind.
Got a devil's haircut in my mind.
Got a devil's haircut in my mind.

Love machines on the sympathy crutches,
Discount orgies on the dropout buses.
Hitching a ride with the bleeding noses,
Coming to town with the briefcase blues.

Got a devil's haircut in my mind.
Got a devil's haircut in my mind.
Got a devil's haircut in my mind.
Got a devil's haircut in my mind.

Something's wrong 'cause my mind is fading,
Ghetto-blasting disintegrating.
Rock 'n' roll, know what I'm saying?
And everywhere I look, there's a devil waiting.

Got a devil's haircut in my mind.
Got a devil's haircut in my mind.
Got a devil's haircut in my mind.
Got a devil's haircut in my mind.
Devil's haircut! In my mind!
Devil's haircut! In my mind!
Devil's haircut! In my mind!

It takes a backwashed man to sing a backwashed song,
Like a frying pan when the fire's gone.
Driving my pig while the band's taking pictures in the grass,
And my radio's smashed.
And I like pianos in the evening sun,
Dragging my heels 'til my day is done.
Saturday night in the captain's clothes,
Tender horns blowing when my jewelry froze.

Yo soy un disco quebrado,
Yo tengo chicle en cerebro.

I can't believe my way-back-when,
My Cadillac pants going much too fast.
Karaoke weekend at the suicide shack,
Community service, and I'm still the mack.
Shocking my finger, spicing my hand,
I been spreading disease all across the land.'
Beautiful, air-conditioned,
Sitting in the kitchen wishing I was livin' like a hitman.
Face down in the guarantees,
Jaundiced honchos gettin' busy with ease.
Cause I get down, I get down, I get down all the way.

Yo soy un disco quebrado,
Yo tengo chicle en cerebro.

Sawdust songs of the plaid bartenders,
Western unions of the country westerns.
Silver foxes looking for romance
In their chainsmoke Kansas flashdance ass-pants.
And you've got the hotwax residues,
You never lose in your razorblade shoes.
Stealing pesos out of my brain,
Hazard signs down the Alamo lanes.
Radar systems piercing the souls,
You never get caught with the wax so rotten.
All my days I got the grizzly words,
Hijacked flavors that are flipping like birds.

Yo soy un disco quebrado,
Yo tengo chicle en cerebro.

AHHRRRRHHHH!!!
you only got one finger left,
and it's pointing at the door,
and your taking for granted,
what the lords laid on the floor,
so i'm picking up the pieces
and i'm puttin' them up for sale,
throw your meal ticket out the window,
put your skeletons in jail
cause lord only knows it's gettin' late
the senses are gone, so don't you hesistate,
give yourself a call,
letcha' bottom dollars fall
throwin your two-bit cares down the drain.
invite me to the seven seas,
like some seasick man.
you'll do whatever you please,
and i'll do whatever i can.
titanic, fare thee well,
my eyes are turning pink
don't call us when the new age,
gets old enough to drink,
cause lord only knows it's getting late,
your senses are gone so don't you hesitate,
move on up the hill,
theres nothing dead, left to kill,
throwin' your two bit cares down the drain...
yeah...
�rale
�rale
�rale
�rale
�rale
�rale
just passin' through...
�rale
�rale
�rale
�rale...........
dYow!
goin' back to houston,
do the hot dog dance,
goin' back to houston,
to get me some pants.............

She's got a cigarette on each arm
She's got the lily-white cavity crazes
She's got a carborator tied to the moon
Pink gods looking to the fruit of the ages
She's alone in the new pollution
She's alone in the new pollution
She's got a hand on a wheel of pain
She can talk to the mangling strangers
She can sleep in a fiery barn
Throwing troubles to the dying embers
She's alone in the new pollution
She's alone in the new pollution
She's alone in the new pollution
She's alone in the new pollution
She's got a paradise camoflauge
Like a whip-crack sending me shivers
She's a boat through a strip-mine ocean
Riding low on the drunken rivers
She's alone in the new pollution
She's alone in the new pollution

Derelict

I dropped my anchor in the dead of night
I packed my suitcase and threw it away
I fell asleep in the funeral fire
I gave my clothes to the police man
Blow back derelict wind,
lay my soul in the fallow field
Blow back derelict wind,
lay my soul in the fallow field
Shooting venom at the passers-by
Hijackers tie the heavens down
I put my eyes in a paper bag
I'm spinning round like a gambling wheel
Blow back derelict wind,
lay my soul in the fallow field
Blow back derelict wind,
lay my soul in the fallow field
I dropped my anchor in the dead of night
I packed my suitcase and threw it away
I fell asleep in the funeral fire
I gave my clothes to the police man
Blow back derelict wind,
lay my soul in the fallow field
Blow back derelict wind,
lay my soul in the fallow field

Keep on truckin like a novacane hurricane
Blowin static on the poor man's short-wave
Stampede's got to dismantle
Code-red: what's your handle
Mission incredible undercover convoy
Full-tilt chromosome cowboy
X-ray search and destroy
Smoke stack black top novacane boy
Got so numb, your mind won't drum
Getting late with the suicide beat
Test-tube, still-born and dazed
Chump scum plays in the razor's haze
Got the momentum radioactive
Lowdown!
Step aside for the operation
Don't expect some generation
Cyanide ride down the turnpike
after hours on the miracle mic
Grinding the gears eighteen wheels
Pigs and robots riding on their heels
Fine tune road block making a sand box
Diesel infernos burning like drano
Down the horizon purple gasses
Semi-trucks hauling their asses
Novacane, hit the road expressway
Explode!
Novacane!
Novacane!

I been drifting along in the same stale old shoes
Loose ends tying a noose in the back of my mind
If you thought that you were making your way
To where the puzzles and pagans lay
I'll put it together: It's a strange invitation

When I wake up someone will sweep up my lazy bones
And we will rise in the cool of the evening
I remember the way that you smiled
When the gravity shackles were wild
And something is vacant when I think it's all beginning

I been drifting along in the same stale old shoes
Loose ends tying the noose in the back of my mind
If you thought that you were making your way
To where the puzzles and pagans lay
I'll put it together: It's a strange invitation

The last survivor of a boiled crown
Another casualty with the casual frown
The janitor vandals they bark in your face
Juveniles with the piles and paste
It's a sensation
A bankrupt corpse
In the garbage classes
With the clutches of fog
Don't be confused when your fuse is up
And you're taking a leak into your brother's cup
When the cup is filled you can run and be killed
In the billion miles of the muscles that build
Radiation
Feeling the force
Karaoke
On the vomiting whores
This stops at zero, hailed the call
Running down the hall, there's nothing wrong
With the chancre sores and the robot pills
Throwing imbeciles on the window sills
It's a sensation!
A bankrupt corpse
In the garbage classes
With the clutches of fog
Fog!
Fog!
Fog!
(?)

I don't need no wheels I don't need no gasoline
'Cause the wind that is blowing Is blowing like a smoke machine
If I said to you That I was looking for a place to get to
'Cause my neck is broken And my pants ain't getting no bigger
I got a stolen wife And a rhinestone life And some good ol' boys
I'm writing my will On a three dollar bill In the evening time
All my friends Tell me something is getting together
I got a beard that would disappear If I'm dressed in leather
Now let me tell you about my baby She was born in Arizona
Sitting in the jailhouse Trying to learn some good manners
I got a stolen wife And a rhinestone life And some good ol' boys
I'm writing my will On a three dollar bill In the evening time
Matchsticks strike When I'm riding my bike to the depot
'Cause everybody knows my name At the recreation center
If I could only find a nickel I would pay myself off tonight
'Cause nobody knows When the good times have passed out cold
I got a stolen wife And a rhinestone life And some good ol' boys
I'm writing my will On a three dollar bill In the evening time
I got a stolen wife And a rhinestone life And some good ol' boys
I'm writing my will On a three dollar bill In the evening time
Don't talk to me If you're looking for somebody to cry on
Don't talk to me If you're looking for somebody to cry on
Ahhhowwww!!

An open road where I can breathe
Where the lowest low is comin to me
I can pull myself back up back down
Stuck together like a readymade
And nobody knows where we been
Cancelled rations are running thin
Watches tick out of tune
Falling apart like a readymade
And my bags are waiting In the next life
Rubbish piles fresh and plain
Empty boxes in a pawn shop brain
License plates stowaway
Standing in line like a readymade
And my bags are waiting in the next life
An open road where I can breathe
Where the lowest low is comin to me
I can pull myself back up back down
Stuck together like a readymade
And my bags are waiting in the next life

High five, high five...
Come on, 8, everybody.
Come on now, 7, 6, 5, huh.
Gimme five, oh yeah, I like that shit.
Gimme five, gimme five, no jive, gimme five.

When I arrive like a high five,
Or a slap in the face, I love the taste.
All my days with my wheelchair ways,
Watch me glide in my suicide high.
I don't mean to cause a holy commotion,
When I step to the room with a powerful motion.
Leopard-skin, let the record spin
Round and round with the speed of sound.

High five, more dead than alive.
Rockin' the plastic like a man from a casket.
High five, more dead than alive.
Rockin' the plastic like a man from a casket.

Rocky mountain low, we got to go.
Put that casket in a random mode.
Purple candy, rocking the Tandy,
Rhumba bloodshot, doing the foxtrot.
In my car sweating like a dog,
Beers and tears, new frontiers.
On my way from the 'Frisco Bay,
Dixieland, soda pop man.

High five, more dead than alive.
Rockin' the plastic like a man from a casket.
High five, more dead than alive.
Rockin' the plastic like a man from a casket.

Yeah, put that machine in the Latin mode.
Talkin' about poppin' tacos, back-back in the last century.
Turn that shit off, man!
What's wrong with you, man?
Get the other record. Damn.

High five, more dead than alive.
Rockin' the plastic like a man from a casket.
High five, more dead than alive.
Rockin' the plastic like a man from a casket.

High five, more dead than alive.
Rockin' the plastic like a man from a casket.
High five, more dead than alive.
Rockin' the plastic like a man from a casket.

Okay now, do you like designer jeans?
Everybody say-say-say "ooh, la-la, Sassoon"!
Come on, come on, come on, one more time.
Let me hear you say "ooh, la-la, Sassoon".
Now all the ladies, all the ladies say "Sergio Valente".
Sing it, girl!
Let me hear you say "Sergio Valente".
Jordache, turn it out!

You've been so long
Your blind eyes are gone
Your old bones are on their own

So take off your coat
Put a song in your throat
Let the dead-beats pound all around

We will go
Nowhere we know
We don't have to talk at all
Hand me downs
Flypaper towns
Stuck together
One and all

The bargains you drag
Buckets and bags
And all your belongings

Your trains in the sand
Ramshackle land
Let the rats watch the races

We will go
Nowhere we know
'Til we find our one and all
Hand me downs
Flypaper towns
Stuck together
One and all

Praises get spent
Your trick face is bent
Pigsties and prizes

'cos there's no kind of wealth
You're shooting yourself
You leave yourself behind

We will go
Nowhere we know
'Til we find our one and all
Your hand me downs
Flypaper towns
Stuck together
One and all

Gotta get it!
Gotta get it!
Yeah-OH!
Yeah-OH!
(Plastic classic)

Can't forget my bestial
Close electric telephone [phones]

Balling like hordes!
About the Shout!

Nasty distortion, [out on my road-jump]
All my friends gout [biscuit/sixties] soul
Rocking the plastic
Taking the no no robo
Rough as a river
Cowboy now-boy
Biscuit risk it tripper hitting the wicked

Man with soul, above the road
Taking' it back for the finger-point crowd

Ooh, gotta get it, plastic classic
Totem poles in the briefcase shows

Disco-box, action!
Gotta let forget with the jazz effect
Gotta let forget with the jazz effect)

Diskobox, [so] action!
Gotta [let forget] with the jazz effect
(Gotta [let forget] with the jazz effect)

Once the whistle blows, my sucker froze
Last Saturday night, I couldn't find my [fight]

[Drinking] Whiskey an' I did not shave
Paralyzed, like he didn't have no time
[Pumping] [whimper] and round the road
A traveling man with a crooked van

Soda-pop ooh sitting like slime
Lets get [soul] an' I realized
Diskobox, [so] action!
Gotta [let forget] with the jazz effect
(Gotta [let forget] with the jazz effect)