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 romanceIn 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. Who are you?I am the enchanting wizard of Riven.Why did you come here?I came to tell you about the rhythms of the universe.

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 piecesand i'm puttin' them up for sale,throw your meal ticket out the window,put your skeletons in jailcause lord only knows it's gettin' latethe senses are gone, so don't you hesistate,give yourself a call,letcha' bottom dollars fallthrowin 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 pinkdon'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...OdelayOdelayOdelayOdelayOdelayOdelayjust passin' through...OdelayOdelayOdelayOdelay...........dYow!Goin' back to houston,to the hot dog dance,(fading)Goin' back to houston,to get me some pants...(quiet)

She's got a cigarette on each armShe's got the lily-white cavity crazesShe's got a carborator tied to the moonPink gods looking to the fruit of the agesShe's alone in the new pollutionShe's alone in the new pollutionShe's got a hand on a wheel of painShe can talk to the mangling strangersShe can sleep in a fiery barnThrowing troubles to the dying embersShe's alone in the new pollutionShe's alone in the new pollutionShe's alone in the new pollutionShe's alone in the new pollutionShe's got a paradise camoflaugeLike a whip-crack sending me shiversShe's a boat through a strip-mine oceanRiding low on the drunken riversShe's alone in the new pollutionShe's alone in the new pollution

I dropped my anchor in the dead of nightI packed my suitcase and threw it awayI fell asleep in the funeral fireI gave my clothes to the police manBlow back derelict wind,lay my soul in the fallow fieldBlow back derelict wind,lay my soul in the fallow fieldShooting venom at the passers-byHijackers tie the heavens downI put my eyes in a paper bagI'm spinning round like a gambling wheelBlow back derelict wind,lay my soul in the fallow fieldBlow back derelict wind,lay my soul in the fallow fieldI dropped my anchor in the dead of nightI packed my suitcase and threw it awayI fell asleep in the funeral fireI gave my clothes to the police manBlow back derelict wind,lay my soul in the fallow fieldBlow back derelict wind,lay my soul in the fallow field

Keep on truckin like a novacane hurricaneBlowin static on the poor man's short-waveStampede's got to dismantleCode-red: what's your handleMission incredible undercover convoyFull-tilt chromosome cowboyX-ray search and destroySmoke stack black top novacane boyGot so numb, your mind won't drumGetting late with the suicide beatTest-tube, still-born and dazedChump scum plays in the razor's hazeGot the momentum radioactiveLowdown!Step aside for the operationDon't expect some generationCyanide ride down the turnpikeafter hours on the miracle micGrinding the gears eighteen wheelsPigs and robots riding on their heelsFine tune road block making a sand boxDiesel infernos burning like dranoDown the horizon purple gassesSemi-trucks hauling their assesNovacane, hit the road expresswayExplode!Novacane!Novacane!

I been drifting along in the same stale old shoesLoose ends tying a noose in the back of my mindIf you thought that you were making your wayTo where the puzzles and pagans layI'll put it together: It's a strange invitation When I wake up someone will sweep up my lazy bonesAnd we will rise in the cool of the eveningI remember the way that you smiledWhen the gravity shackles were wildAnd something is vacant when I think it's all beginning I been drifting along in the same stale old shoesLoose ends tying the noose in the back of my mindIf you thought that you were making your wayTo where the puzzles and pagans layI'll put it together: It's a strange invitation

There's a destination a little up the roadFrom the habitations and the towns we knowA place we saw the lights turn lowThe jig-saw jazz and the get-fresh flow Pulling out jives and jamboree handoutsTwo turntables and a microphoneBottles and cans just clap your hand just clap your hands Where it's at!I got two turntables and a microphoneWhere it's at!I got two turntables and a microphoneWhere it's at!I got two turntables and a microphoneWhere it's at!I got two turntables and a microphone (take me home with my elevator bones!)(that was a good drum break) Pick yourself up off the side of the roadWith your elevator bones and your whip-flash tonesMembers only hyponotizersMove through the room like ambulance driversShine your shoes with your microphone bluesHirsutes with your parachute fruitsPassing the dutchie from coast to coastLike my man Gary Wilson (rocks the most) Where it's at!I got two turntables and a microphoneWhere it's at!I got two turntables and a microphone ("What about those who swing both ways? AC-DC's?") (Let's make it out baby) Two turntables and a microphoneTwo turntables and a microphoneTwo turntables and a microphoneTwo turntables and a microphoneTwo turntables and a microphoneTwo turntables and a microphone (We're all part of the total syndrome) Where it's at!I got two turntables and a microphoneWhere it's at!I got two turntables and a microphone Oh, dear me. Make-out City's a two-horse town("That's beautiful, Dad.") (Got my microphone....)There's a destination a little up the roadFrom the habitations and the towns we knowA place we saw the lights turn lowThe jig-saw jazz and the get-fresh flow Pulling out jives and jamboree handoutsTwo turntables and a microphoneBottles and cans and just clap your hands And just clap your hands Where it's at!I got two turntables and a microphoneWhere it's at!I got two turntables and a microphone I got plastic on my mind(make it out, baby)yeah, yeah, yeahlet's make it out, babyyeah, yeah, yeah, yeah(scream)telephone plastic babyahh, so goodoh, yeahlet's play good

The last survivor of a boiled crownAnother casualty with the casual frownThe janitor vandals they bark in your faceJuveniles with the piles and pasteIt's a sensationA bankrupt corpseIn the garbage classesWith the clutches of fogDon't be confused when your fuse is upAnd you're taking a leak into your brother's cupWhen the cup is filled you can run and be killedIn the billion miles of the muscles that buildRadiationFeeling the forceKaraokeOn the vomiting whoresThis stops at zero, hailed the callRunning down the hall, there's nothing wrongWith the chancre sores and the robot pillsThrowing imbeciles on the window sillsIt's a sensation!A bankrupt corpseIn the garbage classesWith the clutches of fogFog!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 machineIf 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' boysI'm writing my will on a three dollar bill In the evening time All my friends Tell me something is getting togetherI got a beard that would disappear If I'm dressed in leatherNow let me tell you about my baby She was born in ArizonaSitting in the jailhouse Trying to learn some good manners I got a stolen wife and a rhinestone life and some good ol' boysI'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 centerIf 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' boysI'm writing my will on a three dollar bill in the evening timeI got a stolen wife and a rhinestone life and some good ol' boysI'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 onDon't talk to me If you're looking for somebody to cry on