Ooh, Ooh, Ooh,
Woooooo-oooh,
Ooh, Ooh, Ooh,
Woooooo- etc.
[Translation: "¡Ay, American Toreador, Your Dollar Bill Is Much Too Short a Cape for the Bullring of the Universe!"].
©2007, 2010 Andy Klosenski
This title originally appeared on the album American Toreador [2007].
[ http://honkygabacho.bandcamp.com/album/american-toreador ].
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
2) Barakas
I'm 'onna drive my van
through the plateglass window
Of your heart
I'm 'onna drive my van
through the styrofoam-brick wall
Also of your heart
I'm 'onna wrap my chains
'Round the muscles and veins
Once again, of your heart
I'm 'onna put my fist
Through the side of the cranium
Of the side of your cranium
B.A.
B-A-R-A-K-A-S
B-A-B-Y
Don't settle fo' less than
B.A.
B-A-R-A-K-A-S
B.A. Barakas
Who is this apparition
With the feathers and chains?
Who bullies the dull life
And rapes the mundane?
Who's the subject of this white boy's modest refrains
Between a micro-tape recording and
"Look, Ma, No Brainz!"?
B.A.
B-A-R-A-K-A-S
Is just an
Educated guess
B.A.
B-A-R-A-K-A-S
B.A. BARAKAS
Guilty of vehicular assault they
Threw him in jail
Not even eighty pounds of necklace could
Cover the bail
So they sentenced him from
Now till the World's end
to convert to Islam
and be someone's girlfriend
But B.A. became the best Daddy on his cellblock
A black Adonis
Bringin' the shellshock
All the boys from cellblocks A through Z
Would let Barakas drive 'em like he drove that GMC
And all the thugs and the theives and
Even the Fonze
Were all putty in his mitts
And sheaths on his schwanz
Even the three-hundred-pound guys
The Meanest-Around-Guys
Confessed he was the best man at
Rammin' the round-eye
NOW B.A. DON'T WANT CASH
'N' B.A. DON'T SMOKE GRASS
B.A. DON'T WANT YO' PUSSY
HE'LL GO STRAIGHT F' YO' ASS
And if you listen real close, 'round a-quarter-tuh-Two
You'll hear the heavy-breathin', sugar-mouthed
White women coo,
"B.A.
B-A-R-A-K-A-S
B-A-B-Y
Oh, Fuck Yes!"
B.A.
B-A-R-A-K-A-S
B.A. BARAKAS.
The Children cheer
The Neighbors jeer
The Sugar-Mouthed White Women
Ice their Rears 'n'
The Mothers Sneer
The White Man's Fear settin'
Civil Rights back another
Fifteen Years, 'n' they blame
B.A.
B-A-R-A-K-A-S
Hulk Hogan scares us far less than
B.A.
B-A-R-A-K-A-S
B.A. BARAKAS
Look who's here to save your farm with
a watermelon on each arm and uh
B.A.
B-A-N-J-O, it's
TAP-DANCE BARAKAS
He'll defy your histrionics
And occasionally phonics, but
He's a Social Tonic rising
Up from the FRAKAS
He'll make that
H-U-L-K-
H-O-G-A-N
Look like a gay librarian he's
B.A.
B-A-R-A-K-A-S
¡BAD-ASS BARAKAS!
©2007, 2010 Andy Klosenski
Also appears on the album Johnny Got His Axe [RPM Challenge 2007]
[http://honkygabacho.bandcamp.com/album/johnny-got-his-axe]
through the plateglass window
Of your heart
I'm 'onna drive my van
through the styrofoam-brick wall
Also of your heart
I'm 'onna wrap my chains
'Round the muscles and veins
Once again, of your heart
I'm 'onna put my fist
Through the side of the cranium
Of the side of your cranium
B.A.
B-A-R-A-K-A-S
B-A-B-Y
Don't settle fo' less than
B.A.
B-A-R-A-K-A-S
B.A. Barakas
Who is this apparition
With the feathers and chains?
Who bullies the dull life
And rapes the mundane?
Who's the subject of this white boy's modest refrains
Between a micro-tape recording and
"Look, Ma, No Brainz!"?
B.A.
B-A-R-A-K-A-S
Is just an
Educated guess
B.A.
B-A-R-A-K-A-S
B.A. BARAKAS
Guilty of vehicular assault they
Threw him in jail
Not even eighty pounds of necklace could
Cover the bail
So they sentenced him from
Now till the World's end
to convert to Islam
and be someone's girlfriend
But B.A. became the best Daddy on his cellblock
A black Adonis
Bringin' the shellshock
All the boys from cellblocks A through Z
Would let Barakas drive 'em like he drove that GMC
And all the thugs and the theives and
Even the Fonze
Were all putty in his mitts
And sheaths on his schwanz
Even the three-hundred-pound guys
The Meanest-Around-Guys
Confessed he was the best man at
Rammin' the round-eye
NOW B.A. DON'T WANT CASH
'N' B.A. DON'T SMOKE GRASS
B.A. DON'T WANT YO' PUSSY
HE'LL GO STRAIGHT F' YO' ASS
And if you listen real close, 'round a-quarter-tuh-Two
You'll hear the heavy-breathin', sugar-mouthed
White women coo,
"B.A.
B-A-R-A-K-A-S
B-A-B-Y
Oh, Fuck Yes!"
B.A.
B-A-R-A-K-A-S
B.A. BARAKAS.
The Children cheer
The Neighbors jeer
The Sugar-Mouthed White Women
Ice their Rears 'n'
The Mothers Sneer
The White Man's Fear settin'
Civil Rights back another
Fifteen Years, 'n' they blame
B.A.
B-A-R-A-K-A-S
Hulk Hogan scares us far less than
B.A.
B-A-R-A-K-A-S
B.A. BARAKAS
Look who's here to save your farm with
a watermelon on each arm and uh
B.A.
B-A-N-J-O, it's
TAP-DANCE BARAKAS
He'll defy your histrionics
And occasionally phonics, but
He's a Social Tonic rising
Up from the FRAKAS
He'll make that
H-U-L-K-
H-O-G-A-N
Look like a gay librarian he's
B.A.
B-A-R-A-K-A-S
¡BAD-ASS BARAKAS!
©2007, 2010 Andy Klosenski
Also appears on the album Johnny Got His Axe [RPM Challenge 2007]
[http://honkygabacho.bandcamp.com/album/johnny-got-his-axe]
3) Lonesome Electric Robert Pete Williams [Single Edit]
I'm high-voltage, babe,
Ah glow inna dark, I'm a
Conflagration at the slightest spark, 'n' I'm
Lonesome like nobody should be,
Throw that toaster inna tub, Mama,
Set me free...
Ahhh'm from th' Bayou
Of outer space, I'm an
Alligator with a
Pretty Face, I'm a
Ninety-million volt, high-amperage
Infiltrator of the human race.
Well, mah teeth 'n' gums start tuh
Glow 'n' hummm, ah crack uh
Gap-toothed smile while mah
Strings go numb, 'said the
Whole uh m' parts ain't but a
Part uh my sum,
I'll put a charge in yer spark-plug with uh
Flick uh m' tongue,
[Chorus]
Sweeeet, sweet static, mama,
Hissin' in y' ear, like a
Holophonic whisper...
Mah kiss is the sermon inna church uh m'body, 'n' my
Guitar is my vespers.
So, take my hand fer now, little girl, 'n'
Take the rest uh me, if you dare,
'Said I'm uh Mega-watt Buddhist, I gut Ohmmmmm's tuh spare...
[Chorus]
©2007, 2010 Andy Klosenski
This title also appears, in its original form, on Johnny Got His Axe [RPM Challenge, 2007]
[http://honkygabacho.bandcamp.com/album/johnny-got-his-axe]
Ah glow inna dark, I'm a
Conflagration at the slightest spark, 'n' I'm
Lonesome like nobody should be,
Throw that toaster inna tub, Mama,
Set me free...
Ahhh'm from th' Bayou
Of outer space, I'm an
Alligator with a
Pretty Face, I'm a
Ninety-million volt, high-amperage
Infiltrator of the human race.
Well, mah teeth 'n' gums start tuh
Glow 'n' hummm, ah crack uh
Gap-toothed smile while mah
Strings go numb, 'said the
Whole uh m' parts ain't but a
Part uh my sum,
I'll put a charge in yer spark-plug with uh
Flick uh m' tongue,
[Chorus]
Sweeeet, sweet static, mama,
Hissin' in y' ear, like a
Holophonic whisper...
Mah kiss is the sermon inna church uh m'body, 'n' my
Guitar is my vespers.
So, take my hand fer now, little girl, 'n'
Take the rest uh me, if you dare,
'Said I'm uh Mega-watt Buddhist, I gut Ohmmmmm's tuh spare...
[Chorus]
©2007, 2010 Andy Klosenski
This title also appears, in its original form, on Johnny Got His Axe [RPM Challenge, 2007]
[http://honkygabacho.bandcamp.com/album/johnny-got-his-axe]
4) LXXI
Little woman, lemme bend yer ear fer three minutes,
Fer some standard rock fare.
See, I got me a preference,
Y'know the one I'm referencin'; you're
Fidgetin' and twirlin' yer hair.
Y'know the quickest way to the heart uvva man,
It ain't through his stomach, it's his prostate gland...
...She produced a tube, from which she extracted,
A dollop of gelatinous liquid
On the tip of a dainty,
Manicured finger...
There must be some tactful way
To broach such a sensitive subject, but
I guess, in a pinch, this way
Will do.
'See, I like songs that ain't too long,
And not a message, just a vague suggestion,
'n' I'm hopin' you like your suggestions that way too.
Bring me
A floin to clip, we'll read the...
Ching I
I'll be the stud of yer stamen, I'm uh...
King Bee
but never mind my stinger,
Set me off with uh touch of yer little finger, nah
Set me off...
[guitar solo]
I like songs that ain't too long, 'n' not a
Message, just a vague suggestion, and I'm
Hopin' you like your suggestions that way, too.
'Cuz there ain't no tactful way to
Broach such a nefarious subject as the
Dollop oozing from that acrid tube.
Researchers found, in the ruins of Rome,
a wretched volume
[¡Incorrigible tome!],
with one dog-eared page that drove it all home...
L-double-X-
L-X-X-I-
[¡That page!]
©2007, 2010 Andy Klosenski
This title originally appeared on American Toreador [2007]
[ http://honkygabacho.bandcamp.com/album/american-toreador ].
Fer some standard rock fare.
See, I got me a preference,
Y'know the one I'm referencin'; you're
Fidgetin' and twirlin' yer hair.
Y'know the quickest way to the heart uvva man,
It ain't through his stomach, it's his prostate gland...
...She produced a tube, from which she extracted,
A dollop of gelatinous liquid
On the tip of a dainty,
Manicured finger...
There must be some tactful way
To broach such a sensitive subject, but
I guess, in a pinch, this way
Will do.
'See, I like songs that ain't too long,
And not a message, just a vague suggestion,
'n' I'm hopin' you like your suggestions that way too.
Bring me
A floin to clip, we'll read the...
Ching I
I'll be the stud of yer stamen, I'm uh...
King Bee
but never mind my stinger,
Set me off with uh touch of yer little finger, nah
Set me off...
[guitar solo]
I like songs that ain't too long, 'n' not a
Message, just a vague suggestion, and I'm
Hopin' you like your suggestions that way, too.
'Cuz there ain't no tactful way to
Broach such a nefarious subject as the
Dollop oozing from that acrid tube.
Researchers found, in the ruins of Rome,
a wretched volume
[¡Incorrigible tome!],
with one dog-eared page that drove it all home...
L-double-X-
L-X-X-I-
[¡That page!]
©2007, 2010 Andy Klosenski
This title originally appeared on American Toreador [2007]
[ http://honkygabacho.bandcamp.com/album/american-toreador ].
5) Crawling On My Belly
Some people are pleasant, some people are cool, but they're
More the exception
Than they are the rule.
¿What could you expect from these kinds of conditions,
With folks all pushed together
In all kinds of positions?
Half the races of the world,
Tossed into one pot;
You lift up the cover
And what have you got?
One twisted, confused,
Unimaginative lot,
With cataract souls, and
Heads full of snot,
¡Rush to the middle,
Rush to the middle,
Rush to the middle,
They say!
Racial acquittal; betray and belittle...
...C'mere, gimme a whiff of your
Saccharine aroma,
Gimme just a nibble of that
Acrid Diploma, or a
Love between
Catatonia and Coma;
Final stage of
Intellectual
Carcinoma...
Lift off yer face,
Lift off yer face,
Lift off yer face
Every day.
Just hope you never find
You won't change what's behind it,
No matter how much you
Cinch, Suture or Pay
"¡This RIDICULOUS nose, no,
This ain't where it goes!
¿What could that GOD have been THINKING
With the shapes that HE chose?"
¡Lift off yer face!
¡Lift off yer face!
¡Lift off yer face 'n' put it
Any old place, now,
LIFT!
¡I'm Mr. Out-of-Place-Man in
Prosthetic Face Land,
Crawling on my belly through the
Cultural Wasteland;
The half-devoured, high-powered
Fascist Graceland is
Ours for the taking by the
End of the day!
I'm Mr. Out-of-Place-Man in the
Human Race, 'n' I'm
Crawling on my belly, tryin' to
Keep with the pace;
Just so many distractions and
So little space, but
It Is What Is, and all the rest is just waste...
¡We're gonna blitz, full-glitz, up the
Ass o' the beast,
Don't give a good-god-damn
What they tell me, I'll tell ya, mama;
Balls-deep up the ass o' the beast, I got
Two sixes on my head 'n' a third one on my guitar when we
Blitz, full glitz, up the
Ass o' the beast,
Don't give a good-god-damn if we're
Less than svelte,
We bring the noise and the gamble
Outright from the preamble,
Not particularly sorry if your
Stereo melts!
©2008, 2010 Andy Klosenski
This title originally appeared on ¡The Jugband Cannibala Court a Bride! [RPM Challenge 2008; soon to be re-released as ¡The Jugband Cannibala Take a Bride!. More on that later...]
[ http://honkygabacho.bandcamp.com/album/the-jugband-cannibala-take-a-bride ]
More the exception
Than they are the rule.
¿What could you expect from these kinds of conditions,
With folks all pushed together
In all kinds of positions?
Half the races of the world,
Tossed into one pot;
You lift up the cover
And what have you got?
One twisted, confused,
Unimaginative lot,
With cataract souls, and
Heads full of snot,
¡Rush to the middle,
Rush to the middle,
Rush to the middle,
They say!
Racial acquittal; betray and belittle...
...C'mere, gimme a whiff of your
Saccharine aroma,
Gimme just a nibble of that
Acrid Diploma, or a
Love between
Catatonia and Coma;
Final stage of
Intellectual
Carcinoma...
Lift off yer face,
Lift off yer face,
Lift off yer face
Every day.
Just hope you never find
You won't change what's behind it,
No matter how much you
Cinch, Suture or Pay
"¡This RIDICULOUS nose, no,
This ain't where it goes!
¿What could that GOD have been THINKING
With the shapes that HE chose?"
¡Lift off yer face!
¡Lift off yer face!
¡Lift off yer face 'n' put it
Any old place, now,
LIFT!
¡I'm Mr. Out-of-Place-Man in
Prosthetic Face Land,
Crawling on my belly through the
Cultural Wasteland;
The half-devoured, high-powered
Fascist Graceland is
Ours for the taking by the
End of the day!
I'm Mr. Out-of-Place-Man in the
Human Race, 'n' I'm
Crawling on my belly, tryin' to
Keep with the pace;
Just so many distractions and
So little space, but
It Is What Is, and all the rest is just waste...
¡We're gonna blitz, full-glitz, up the
Ass o' the beast,
Don't give a good-god-damn
What they tell me, I'll tell ya, mama;
Balls-deep up the ass o' the beast, I got
Two sixes on my head 'n' a third one on my guitar when we
Blitz, full glitz, up the
Ass o' the beast,
Don't give a good-god-damn if we're
Less than svelte,
We bring the noise and the gamble
Outright from the preamble,
Not particularly sorry if your
Stereo melts!
©2008, 2010 Andy Klosenski
This title originally appeared on ¡The Jugband Cannibala Court a Bride! [RPM Challenge 2008; soon to be re-released as ¡The Jugband Cannibala Take a Bride!. More on that later...]
[ http://honkygabacho.bandcamp.com/album/the-jugband-cannibala-take-a-bride ]
6) I Got Aces
Seamstress for the band,
New girl in town:
Tailor-made woman, ain't no
Hand-me-down.
¡Bay-beh,
I got aces!
¡Bay-beh...
Everybody's foldin', every hand that I play,
Corners of my mouth must uh
Gave me away, I said,
¡Bay-beh,
I got aces!
¡Bay-beh...
Closer to the vest with
Every hand that I play,
Thumpin' uh my cards must uh
Gave me away...
©2007, 2010 Andy Klosenski
Title also appears on American Toreador [2007].
[ http://honkygabacho.bandcamp.com/album/american-toreador ]
New girl in town:
Tailor-made woman, ain't no
Hand-me-down.
¡Bay-beh,
I got aces!
¡Bay-beh...
Everybody's foldin', every hand that I play,
Corners of my mouth must uh
Gave me away, I said,
¡Bay-beh,
I got aces!
¡Bay-beh...
Closer to the vest with
Every hand that I play,
Thumpin' uh my cards must uh
Gave me away...
©2007, 2010 Andy Klosenski
Title also appears on American Toreador [2007].
[ http://honkygabacho.bandcamp.com/album/american-toreador ]
7) I'm Your Nasty Shadow
You're at the end of your rope, without even enough left to
Tie yourself a noose,
Try as you may, though at the end of your day,
You're still wondering, "¿What's the use?"
You know you're still young yet,
You're contract aint signed, but
Reason aint easin' your
Worryin' mind,
So stare hard into the mirror,
In here you will find,
That I'm never skulking
All that far behind, for
I'm your nasty shadow,
I'm the hand that moves your hand in
Malignant* intent, I'm the
Flint to your spark, uh
Flash in the dark, your
Casual conversations always
Stop where I start, I'm the
Edge on your knife, I'm the
Stained side uh life, 'said
I'm your nasty shadow.
I'm the point where your love-glance
Turns into a leer, your
Laugh to uh cackle, your
Smile to a sneer, I'm the
Filigree choir to your
Unheard cries, I'm the
Thing that you love about
The things you despise, so
Just take that step forward, 'n' let
Me be your eyes, for
I'm your nasty shadow.
©2008, 2010 Andy Klosenski
This title also appears on ¡The Jugband Cannibala Take a Bride! [2008; re-release, with extra material, still pending]
[ http://honkygabacho.bandcamp.com/album/the-jugband-cannibala-take-a-bride ]
Tie yourself a noose,
Try as you may, though at the end of your day,
You're still wondering, "¿What's the use?"
You know you're still young yet,
You're contract aint signed, but
Reason aint easin' your
Worryin' mind,
So stare hard into the mirror,
In here you will find,
That I'm never skulking
All that far behind, for
I'm your nasty shadow,
I'm the hand that moves your hand in
Malignant* intent, I'm the
Flint to your spark, uh
Flash in the dark, your
Casual conversations always
Stop where I start, I'm the
Edge on your knife, I'm the
Stained side uh life, 'said
I'm your nasty shadow.
I'm the point where your love-glance
Turns into a leer, your
Laugh to uh cackle, your
Smile to a sneer, I'm the
Filigree choir to your
Unheard cries, I'm the
Thing that you love about
The things you despise, so
Just take that step forward, 'n' let
Me be your eyes, for
I'm your nasty shadow.
©2008, 2010 Andy Klosenski
This title also appears on ¡The Jugband Cannibala Take a Bride! [2008; re-release, with extra material, still pending]
[ http://honkygabacho.bandcamp.com/album/the-jugband-cannibala-take-a-bride ]
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