Frank Zappa - Zappa Picks/ By Larry Lalonde Of Primus (2004) by Frank Zappa (보컬) on maniadb.com

Dumb All Over (Frank Zappa)
This version of lyrics from "Have I Offended Someone?" (a fantastic live version) released 1997

Whoever we are, wherever we're from
We shoulda noticed by now, our behavior is dumb
And if our chances expect to improve
It's gonna take a lot more, than trying to remove the other race
Or the other whatever, from the face
Of the planet altogether

They call it THE EARTH, which is a dumb kinda name
But they named it right, 'cause we behave the same...
We are dumb all over
Dumb all over, yes we are
Dumb all over, near an' far
Dumb all over, black an' white
People, we is not wrapped tight

Nerds on the left, nerds on the right
Religious fanatics on the air every night
Saying the Bible tells the story
Makes the details sound real gory
About what to do if the geeks over there
Don't believe in the book we got over here

You can't run a race without no feet
An' pretty soon there won't be no street
For dummies to jog on or doggies to dog on
Religious fanatics can make it be all gone
It won't blow up An' disappear
It'll just look ugly for a thousand years...

You can't run a country by a book of religion
Not by a heap or a lump or a smidgen
Of foolish rules of ancient date
Designed to make you all feel great
While you fold, spindle and mutilate
Those unbelievers from a neighboring state

TO ARMS! TO ARMS! Hooray! That's great
Two legs ain't bad unless there's a crate
They ship the parts to mama in
For souvenirs: two ears - Get Down!
Not his, not hers, but what the hey?
The Good Book says: "It's gotta be that way!"
But their book says: "REVENGE THE CRUSADES!!!!..."

With whips an' chains an' hand grenades..."
TWO ARMS? TWO ARMS? Have another and another
My God says: "There ain't no other!"
Our God says: "It's all okay!"
My God says: "This is the way!"
It says in the book: "Burn and destroy....."
An' repent, an' redeem, an' revenge, an' deploy
An' rumble thee forth to the land of the unbelieving scum on the other side
Cause they don't go for what's in the Book
An' that makes 'em BAD
So All, verily we must choppeth them up
Or stompeth them down
Or rent a nice French bomb
Ssssssssss........ to poof them out of existence
While leaving their real estate just where we need it
To use again for temples in which to praise OUR GOD
"Cause He can really take care of business!"

And when His humble TV servant
With white hair and a brown suit
And maybe a blond wife who takes phone calls
Tells us it's okay to do this stuff, then we're supposed do it
'Cause if we don't do it, we ain't gwine up to hebbin!
(Depending on which book you're using at the time...
Can't use theirs... it's all lies...... Gotta use mine... Ain't that right?
That's what they say -- Every night... Every day...
Listen, we can't really be dumb, if we're just following God's Orders
After all, He wrote this book here an' in the Book He says:
"He made us all to be just like Him,"
So... If we're dumb... Then God is dumb...
An' maybe even a little bit ugly on the side

DUMB ALL OVER ? a little ugly on the side
DUMB ALL OVER ? a little ugly on the side
DUMB ALL OVER ? a little ugly on the side

Frank Zappa (guitar, lead vocals)
George Duke (keyboards, synthesizer, vocals)
Napoleon Murphy Brock (flute, tenor saxophone, vocals)
Chester Thompson (drums)
Tom Fowler (bass)
Ruth Underwood (vibes, marimba, percussion)
Bloodshot Rollin' Red (harmonica)

Evelyn, a modified dog
Viewed the quivering fringe of a special doily
Draped across the piano, with some surprise

In the darkened room
Where the chairs dismayed
And the horrible curtains
Muffled the rain
She could hardly believe her eyes

A curious breeze
A garlic breath
Which sounded like a snore
Somewhere near the Steinway (or even from within)
Had caused the doily fringe to waft & tremble in the gloom

Evelyn, a dog, having undergone
Further modification
Pondered the significance of short-person behavior
In pedal-depressed panchromatic resonance
And other highly ambient domains...

Arf she said

Frank Zappa (lead guitar, vocals)
Adrian Belew (rhythm guitar, vocals)
Tommy Mars (keyboards, vocals)
Peter Wolf (keyboards)
Patrick O'Hearn (bass, vocals)
Terry Bozzio (drums, vocals)
Ed Mann (percussion, vocals)
Napoleon Murphy Brock (background vocals)
Andre Lewis (background vocals)
Randy Thornton (background vocals)
Davey Moire (background vocals)
David Ocker (clarinet)

Many well-dressed people
In several locations
Are kissing quite a bit
Later in the evening
Leaves will fall
Tears will flow
Wind will blow
Some rain; some snow
A fireplace maybe
A kiss or two
And down they'll go
But that's the way it goes sometimes
You just might find yourself in the clutches of some
Wild Love

Mama stroked his dinger
Daddy got a stinky finger
In those days of long ago
Later in the evening
She'd complain
They'd refrain
He'd go home and hone his bone
A tragic case maybe
But also true
I'm sure you know
But that's the way it goes sometimes
You just might find yourself in the clutches of some
Wild Love

Now'days you get dressed up
'N' later you get messed up
But still you're pretty hip
Later in the evening
You'll explain
She'll remain
You're real modern
She's the same
A frantic pace maybe
But who's to say
Where it will go

Mark Volman (lead vocals)
Howard Kaylan (lead vocals)
Ian Underwood (woodwinds, keyboards, vocals)
Aynsley Dunbar (drums)
Don Preston (keyboards, mini-moog)
Jim Pons (bass, vocals)

Primer mi carucha, chevy '39
Going to El Monte Legion Stadium
Pick up on my weesa, she is so divine
Helps me stealing hubcaps, wasted all the time

Fuzzy dice, bongos in the back
My ship of love is ready to attack

Frank Zappa (lead guitar, vocals)
Ike Willis (rhythm guitar, vocals)
Ray White (rhythm guitar, vocals)
Steve Vai (rhythm guitar, vocals)
Warren Cucurullo (rhythm guitar, vocals)
Denny Walley (slide guitar, vocals)
Tommy Mars (keyboards, vocals)
Peter Wolf (keyboards)
Bob Harris (keyboards, trumpet, vocals)
Ed Mann (percussion)
Arthur Barrow (bass, vocals)
Vinnie Colaiuta (drums)

Well, yeah, well
Oh yeah
She was a fine girl
She could get down wit de get down
All de way down
She do yer laundry
She change a tire
Chop a little wood for de fire
Poke it around...if it died down

Oh yeah
She was a fine girl
She go up in the mornin'
She go down in the evenin'...all de way down
She do the dishes
If you wishes
Silverware too
Make it look brand new...when she get through
Oh yeah
She was a fine girl
Outa this world

Well, yeah, well, yeah, well, yeah, well
Oh yeah
She was a fine girl
She could get down wit de get down
All de way down
She do your laundry
She change a tire
Chop a little wood for de fire
Poke it around...if it died down

Oh yeah
She was a fine girl
With a lovely smile
With a bucket on her head
Fulla water from de well
She could run a mile
Oh yeah
She wouldn't spill a drop
It'd stay on top
Her head was kinda flat
But her hair covered that
She was a fine girl
Didn't need no school
She was built like a mule
With a thong sandal
Well, wasn't no kinda job she could not handle
She could get down...wit de get down
All de way down
We need some more like dat in dis kinda town
We need some more like dat in dis kinda town
We need some more like dat in dis kinda town
We need some more like dat in dis kinda town...
We need some more like dat...

Frank Zappa (lead guitar, vocals)
George Duke (keyboards, synthesizer, vocals)
Tom Fowler (bass)
Ruth Underwood (percussion)
Jeff Simmons (rhythm guitar, vocals)
Don Preston (synthesizer)
Bruce Fowler (trombone)
Walt Fowler (trumpet)
Napoleon Murphy Brock (tenor saxophone, flute, lead vocals)
Ralph Humphrey (drums)
Chester Thompson (drums)
Debbie (background vocals)
Lynn (background vocals)
Robert Camarena (background vocals)

Goin' back home
To the Village of the Sun
Out in back of Palmdale
Where the turkey farmers run, I done
Made up my mind
And I know I'm gonna go to Sun
Village, good God I hope the
Wind don't blow

It take the paint off your car
And wreck your windshield too,
I don't know how the people stand it,
But I guess they do
Cause they're all still there,
Even Johnny Franklin too
In the Village of the Sun
Village of the Sun
Village of the Sun, son
(Sun Village to you)

Little Mary, and Teddy, and Thelma too
Where Palmdale Bouldevard
Cuts on through
Past the Village Inn & Barbecue
(I heard it ain't there...
Well I hope it ain't true)
Where the stumblers gonna go
To watch the lights turn blue
Where the stumblers gonna go
To watch the lights turn
blue-ooo-ooo-ooo-ooo-ooo-wahhh?

Goin' back home
To the Village of the Sun
Out in back of Palmdale
Where the turkey farmers run, I done
Made up my mind
And I know I'm gonna go to Sun
Village, good God I hope the
Wind don't blow

It take the paint off your car
And wreck your windshield too,
I don't know how the people stand it,
But I guess they do
Cause they're all still there,
Even Johnny Franklin too
In the Village of the Sun
Village of the Sun
Village of the Sun, son
(Sun Village to you)

Act I

SCENE FIVE
THE WET T-SHIRT CONTEST

After a few weeks on the bus, being porked by
Toad-O's road crew, and being too exhausted to do
their laundry on a regular basis, MARY is dumped in Miami.
With no money (and no other famous rock groups due into
the area for at least three weeks), she tries to pick up a few bucks
by entering the Wet T-Shirt contest at The Brasserie...


IKE:
Looks to me like something funny
Is going on around here
People laughin' 'n' dancin' 'n' payin'
Entirely too much for their beer
And they all think they are
Clean outa-site
And they're ready to party
"Cause the sign outside says it's WET T-SHIRT NITE
'N' they all crave some Hot delight
Well the girls are excited
Because in a minute
They're gonna get wet
'N' the boys are delighted
Because all the titties
Will get 'em upset
'N' they all think they are Reety-awright
'N' they're ready to boogie
'Cause the sign outside says it's WET T-SHIRT NITE
'N' they all crave some Pink delight
When the water gets on'em
Their ninnies get rigid
'N' look pretty bold
It's a common reaction
That makes an attraction
Whenever it's cold
'N'all of the fellas
They wish they could bite
On the cute little nuggets
The local girls are showin' off tonite
You know I think it serves 'em right
You know I think it serves 'em right
You know I think it serves 'em right
You know I think it serves 'em right
And it's WET T-SHIRT TIME AGAIN
I know you want someone to show you some tit!
BIG ONES! WET ONES! BIG WET ONES!

At this point, FATHER RILEY (who had been recently de-frocked
for not meeting his quota, and has grown his hair out and
bought a groovy sport coat and moved to Miami and changed
his name to BUDDY JONES) steps onto the crowded bandstand
in his exciting new role as a WET T-SHIRT CONTEST EMCEE...


BUDDY JONES:
Ah, thanks, IKE...
Yes, it's WET T-SHIRT TIME AGAIN
Here at The Brasserie... Home of THE TITS... huh huh...
And it's the charming Mary from Canoga Park
Up next in her bid for the semi-finals...
Hi,Mary...howya doin?

Having been fucked senseless by the boys in the crew, MARY does
not recognize the former religious personage from her nights in the
rectory basement during which she acquired her basic manual skills…
confounded by his sport coat, she replies...


MARY: Hi!

Realizing that she no longer recognizes him... or even appreciates
the patient religious training he had given her in the past, BUDDY JONES,
like a true WET T-SHIRT EMCEE type person, proceeds to say various
stupid things to waste time, making the contest itself take longer, thereby
giving the mongoloids squatting on the dance floor an opportunity to buy
more exciting beverages. . . liquid products that will expand their
consciousnesses to the point whereby they might more fully enjoy the ambiance
of Miami By Night...


BUDDY JONES:
Where ya from?

MARY:
Ah, the bus...

BUDDY JONES:
Which one?

MARY:
You know...the last tour...
You know...
Leather

BUDDY JONES:
Oh.. .you were the girl that was stuck to seat 38 on Phydeaux III...
why don't you get in position now and take a deep breath, because
this water is very, very cold, but it's goin' to be so stimulating. And
Mary's the kind of Red-Blooded American Girl who'll do anything...

MARY:
Anything...

BUDDY JONES:
I said anything... for fifty bucks
That's right!

MARY:
I really need the fifty bucks you know I gotta get home!

BUDDY JONES:
Yeh, I know, your father is waiting for you in the tool shed... that's right,you
heard right... our big prize tonight is fifty American Dollars to the girl with
the most exciting mammalian protruberances...


MARY: Here I am!

BUDDY JONES: ...
as viewed through a thoroughly soaked, stupid looking white sort of male
person's conservative kind of middle-of-the-road COTTON UNDER-GARMENT!
Whoopee! And here comes THE WATER!


MARY:
EEEK!

BUDDY JONES:
No, you'd squeak more if the water got on you ...sounds like you just got an
ice pick in the forehead... AND HERE COMES THE ICE PICK IN THE FOREHEAD...
a million laughs, Mary! Anyway; good golly, what a mess...she's totally soaked..
totally committed to the fifty bucks.. .That's it just step into the spotlight.. let the guys
get a good look at ya honey!


MARY:
Here I am!

BUDDY JONES:
Whaddya say, fellas?
Nice setta jugs?
Now Mary, how's about shakin' it around a little...

BUDDY JONES:
Oh my goodness, look at her go!

MARY:
Oooh! I'm dancing!
I'm dancing!

BUDDY JONES:
Ain't this what living is really all about!
Here's your fifty bucks, Mary...

MARY:
Oh great! Now I can go home!

BUDDY JONES:
Home is where the heart is.

MARY:
On the bus.