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Jackie's on his back
The lights are bright like golden spikes in iron tracks
And all the while, smoke is pouring from his stack
As a Cadillac peels out in the grass
He's chewing up his chops
He's always running 'round in circles through the crops
He dropped his darling at the bottom of the pops
I guess he's taking back his god-given ass
You're the apple of his vacant stare
And when he opens his mouth
All you hear is dead air
Old Jackie's on his back, and one day Jack
Is gonna be on your back, too
Jackie's on his knees
He reaches up and gives the cloud of smoke a squeeze
The world's a beast, and he is sucking off the fleas
As his pompadour is coming unglued
La-di-da, he starts to sing
He loads a hollow point bullet in a sling
He slips a wedding ring on to the raven's wing
And then drips a drop of vampire food
Finally, he stands
He's got a pair of pink tarantulas for hands
He ties a tourniquet to something in his pants
And pulls an eagle-foot bouquet from his coat
But when he turns to toss it, he slips
He shuts his eyeballs and he flaps his bony hips
A hazy shadow sort of locks on to his lips--
That's the devil blowing smoke down his throat
Lyrics by Sycamore Smith
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I can barely see you, but I see you’re not doing so well
Looks like you must have just crawled out from under Hell
Breaking up was hard on you
But cracking up was very easy to do
I can barely see you, but I see you’re not doing so well
The midwife is happy when your chippy’s with child
The police are happy when they catch you running wild
And when your soul takes flight
And goes soaring though the night,
In the morning you’ll be making
The undertaker smile
I can barely hear you,
But i hear you’ve got your head in the ground
You bury it deep, but that thought keeps creeping around
Speak up, I can’t hear what you’re saying
Are you begging yourself to stop your praying?
I can barely hear you, but I hear you’ve got your head in the ground
I’ll be here when you're gone and you’re forgotten
You’re scratching my back
When you scrape that barrel bottom
Go ahead, do yourself in
I’ll just send you back so you can do it again
I’ll be here when you’re gone and you’re forgotten
Lyrics by Sycamore Smith
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I'm up to my earballs in booze
Yes, I'm up to my earballs in booze
I've been drinkin' all day down that skeleton juice
Now I must plug my eyes up and snooze
Cuz I'm up to my earballs, up to my earballs,
I'm up to my earballs in booze
I'm up to my earballs in debt
Yes, I'm up to my earballs in debt
The higher them horse odds, the deeper I get
When I unfold my bill wad and bet
Cuz I'm up to my earballs, up to my earballs,
I'm up to my earballs in debt
I'm up to my earballs in sin
Yes, I'm up to my earballs in sin
Y'see, Miss Katie-Lou never did say "I do"
Still we done it again and again
Now it's six sets of triplets and twelve pairs of twins
And I'm up to my earballs in sin
Oh, they say that I must quit my ramblin'
And they say that I must quit my gamblin'
They pray for the Savior to change my behavior
But I'm going to my grave for to spoil
And I'll be up to my earballs, up to my earballs,
In worms when I'm sunk in the soil
Lyrics by Sycamore Smith
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4. |
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Roses, briers, shrinking violets, Pilate's my co-pilot
Good chance we'll wash our hands of this romance
So keep it quiet
Another man you can't resist
Every hand has got a fist
I'm a stitch, oh har-dee-har
I think my heart is pumping tar
In the garden, the butterfly knives are carving
Petals flying, "loves me not"
Oh god, don't get me started
I'm a drip in the sea
I'm a wreck, rescue me
What a joke, what a hoot
I'm sinking in my new black suit
I'm alone in misery, but otherwise I'm doing fine
The captain has just turned off
The "Abandon All Hope" sign
I'm a bird on the wing
Looking down on everything
I'm a bird on the wing
Looking down on everything
Lyrics by Sycamore Smith
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5. |
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The engineer and I began to wrestle
He wouldn't let me blow the whistle when I wanted
So I bounced him out the door and off a trestle
Into a river that was loaded with piranha
I'm rocking back & forth beneath the light bulb
My chair will not sit level any more
Something that I buried makes a slight bulge
And my chair goes "thumpa-thumpa" on the floor...
Dancing 'round the gallows in their twosomes
They followed while the caller called the calls
But when he hollered "Swing yer partner!"
It got gruesome
Down at the Hangman's Ball
Lyrics by Sycamore Smith
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6. |
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Ever raking, ever drinking
Breaking windows, swearing, sinking
There they stand, defiant, reeking
They are the Brothers Ape
Spending more than they can earn
Leaving every bar-room burned
The Earth is dirt and they are the worms
Behold! the Brothers Ape
Living in a hallowed hall
Punching holes in hollow walls
Their breath will burn, their spit will scald
The enemies of Ape
They wear their hair shirts inside-out
Extend their fangs and walk about
From underground, the beasts slide out
To greet the Brothers Ape
They forge their daggers with their fists
And sharpen razors on their wrists
Cobras lift their heads and hiss
To cheer the Brothers Ape
No one knows who sent them
Or what forces might have bent them
In the night, you're followed by
Their silent, hunchbacked, shapes
They sense your fear, you cannot shake
The relentless Brothers Ape
And if they find their fangs have dulled
They'll cut some new ones from your skull
The vomitorium is full--You can thank the Brothers Ape
They will draw & quarter you
And draw & quarter the quarters, too
The ropes are taut, the knots are true
Ride! you Brothers Ape!
Lyrics by Sycamore Smith
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7. |
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Let me be the darkness you get off in
You can be the hard bitten broad I soften
Till you promise you will never, ever leave me
Very often
No that's not a bracelet, those are stitches
I got when I was digging through the ditches
Hiding in the sticks, dodging dicks
And their barking bitches
The man who put the "bomp" in the bomp-a-bomp
Is dragging his wife from the edge of the swamp
She drank, she drank, she drowned
Cash in your lust for some ash and some dust
You can scatter all around
And grind, and grind in the ground
Yes, I know my head is salt & peppered
Sit and say grace to the shoving leopard
And bury this blade that I made
From the jaw of a German shepherd
I was hung like a horse and went looking for action
Now I'm hung like a horse in traction
Sad fact is, hon,
I can't stand no satisfaction
The man with the battle axe hacks at the wedding bell
The man with the ball & chain goes down the well
The man who put the
"Wham-bam-thank-you" in the ma'am has a smoke
The man who put the ring on the rang-a-tang
Is paying for a poke
Lyrics by Sycamore Smith
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