In the time of chimpanzees I was a monkey
Butane in my veins so I'm out to cut the junkie
With the plastic eyeballs, spray paint the vegetables
Dog food stalls with the beefcake pantyhose
Kill the headlights and put it in neutral
Stock car flamin' with a loser and the cruise control
Baby's in Reno with the vitamin D
Got a couple of couches, sleep on the love seat
Someone keeps sayin' I'm insane to complain
About a shotgun wedding and a stain on my shirt
Don't believe everything that you read
You get a parking violation and a maggot on your sleeve
So shave your face with some mace in the dark
Savin' all your food stamps and burnin' down the trailer park
Yo, cut it
Soy un perdedor
I'm a loser baby so why don't you kill me? (double barrel buckshot)
Soy un perdedor
I'm a loser baby, so why don't you kill me?
The forces of evil in a Bozo nightmare
Ban all the music with a phony gas chamber
'Cause one's got a weasel and the other's got a flag
One's on the pole, shove the other in the bag
With the rerun shows and the cocaine nose job
The daytime crap with the folksinger slop
He hung himself with a guitar string
A slab of turkey neck and it's hangin' from a pigeon wing
Gotta get right if you can't relate
Trade the cash for the beef, for the body, for the hate
And my time is a piece of wax fallin' on a termite
That's chokin' on the splinters
Soy un perdedor
I'm a loser baby so why don't you kill me?
(Get crazy with the Cheeze Whiz)
Soy un perdedor
I'm a loser baby so why don't you kill me?
(Drive-by body pierce)
(Yo bring it on down)
Soy
(I'm a driver, I'm a winner, things are gonna change I can feel it)
Soy un perdedor
I'm a loser baby so why don't you kill me?
(I can't believe you)
Soy un perdedor
I'm a loser baby so why don't you kill me?
Soy un perdedor
I'm a loser baby so why don't you kill me?
(Sprechen sie Deutsch, baby?)
Soy un perdedor
I'm a loser baby so why don't you kill me?
(Know what I'm sayin'?)
Beck - Mellow Gold Album Lyrics
Beck - Mellow Gold Lyrics
Writer: Carl Stephenson, Beck Hansen
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Pay No Mind (Snoozer)
This is song two on the album
This is the album right here
Burn the album
Tonight the city is full of morgues
And all the toilets are overflowing
There's shopping malls coming out of the walls
As we walk out among the manure
That's why
I pay no mind
I pay no mind
I pay no mind
Give the finger to the rock n roll singer
As he's dancing upon your pay check
The sales climb high through the garbage pail sky
Like a giant dildo crushing the sun
That's why
I pay no mind
Sleep in slime
I just got signed
So get out your lead pipe pipe dreams
Get out your ten-foot flags
The insects are huge
And the poison's all been used
And the drugs won't kill your day job
Honey
That's why
I pay no mind
I pay no mind
I pay no mind
That's why
I pay no mind
I pay no mind
I pay no mind
I pay no mind
I pay no mind
I pay no mind
This is the album right here
Burn the album
Tonight the city is full of morgues
And all the toilets are overflowing
There's shopping malls coming out of the walls
As we walk out among the manure
That's why
I pay no mind
I pay no mind
I pay no mind
Give the finger to the rock n roll singer
As he's dancing upon your pay check
The sales climb high through the garbage pail sky
Like a giant dildo crushing the sun
That's why
I pay no mind
Sleep in slime
I just got signed
So get out your lead pipe pipe dreams
Get out your ten-foot flags
The insects are huge
And the poison's all been used
And the drugs won't kill your day job
Honey
That's why
I pay no mind
I pay no mind
I pay no mind
That's why
I pay no mind
I pay no mind
I pay no mind
I pay no mind
I pay no mind
I pay no mind
Writer: Beck Hansen
Copyright: Lyrics © Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.
Copyright: Lyrics © Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.
Fuckin with My Head (Mountain Dew Rock)
I ain't got no inclination
Give away my sweet sensation
Sleeping in an old tool shed
Scumbag crying on his pillow
When you wanna be with me then we will see
Who's f*ckin' with my head
Hey, hey, hey, hey
F*ckin' with my head
Hey, hey, hey, hey
Found myself in New Orleans
With a scarecrow in my jeans
Feed my forehead through the ceiling
Drank my coffee with a hubcap
Yeah
When you want to be with me then we will see
Who's f*ckin' with my head
No, no, no, no
F*ckin' with my head
Hey, hey, hey, hey
Devil's got your pantyhose on his head
Oh yeah, and he's robbing me but all I got is cornbread
Well, you turn my body into a crutch
And now I'm limping all over when I feel your touch
Oh yeah
Put upon my jack-eyed boots
Running wild on the bayou
Now I'm talking on a walkie-talkie
Credit card glued to my hand
Feels good
When you wanna be with me then we will see
Who's f*ckin' with my head
Hey, hey, hey, hey
No, no, no, no
F*ckin' with my head
Make me feel like an asshole
I ain't got no soul
I ain't got no soul
No, no, no, no
No, no, no, no
No, no, no, no
No, no, no, no
Give away my sweet sensation
Sleeping in an old tool shed
Scumbag crying on his pillow
When you wanna be with me then we will see
Who's f*ckin' with my head
Hey, hey, hey, hey
F*ckin' with my head
Hey, hey, hey, hey
Found myself in New Orleans
With a scarecrow in my jeans
Feed my forehead through the ceiling
Drank my coffee with a hubcap
Yeah
When you want to be with me then we will see
Who's f*ckin' with my head
No, no, no, no
F*ckin' with my head
Hey, hey, hey, hey
Devil's got your pantyhose on his head
Oh yeah, and he's robbing me but all I got is cornbread
Well, you turn my body into a crutch
And now I'm limping all over when I feel your touch
Oh yeah
Put upon my jack-eyed boots
Running wild on the bayou
Now I'm talking on a walkie-talkie
Credit card glued to my hand
Feels good
When you wanna be with me then we will see
Who's f*ckin' with my head
Hey, hey, hey, hey
No, no, no, no
F*ckin' with my head
Make me feel like an asshole
I ain't got no soul
I ain't got no soul
No, no, no, no
No, no, no, no
No, no, no, no
No, no, no, no
Writer: Beck Hansen
Copyright: Lyrics © Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.
Copyright: Lyrics © Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.
Whiskeyclone Hotel City 1997
(One more time)
I was born in this hotel
Washing dishes in the sink
Magazines and free soda
Trying hard not to think
Lay it on to the dawn
Everything we done is wrong
I'll be lonesome when I'm gone
Lay it on to the dawn
She can talk to squirrels (oh, ho yeah)
Coming back from the convalescent home (ooh)
Staring at sports cars
Crying
Rattlesnake on the ceiling
Gunpowder on my sleeve
I will live here forever
With the ocean and the bees
Lay it on to the dawn
Everything we done is wrong
I'll be lonesome when I'm gone
Lay it on to the dawn
Lay it on to the dawn
Lay it on to the dawn
Lay it on to the dawn
I was born in this hotel
Washing dishes in the sink
Magazines and free soda
Trying hard not to think
Lay it on to the dawn
Everything we done is wrong
I'll be lonesome when I'm gone
Lay it on to the dawn
She can talk to squirrels (oh, ho yeah)
Coming back from the convalescent home (ooh)
Staring at sports cars
Crying
Rattlesnake on the ceiling
Gunpowder on my sleeve
I will live here forever
With the ocean and the bees
Lay it on to the dawn
Everything we done is wrong
I'll be lonesome when I'm gone
Lay it on to the dawn
Lay it on to the dawn
Lay it on to the dawn
Lay it on to the dawn
Writer: Beck Hansen
Copyright: Lyrics © Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.
Copyright: Lyrics © Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.
Soul Suckin Jerk
I'm standin right here with a beer in my hand
and my mouth is full of sand and I don't understand
big fat fingers pointin' into my face
tellin me to get busy cleanin' up this place
fourteen days I've been sleepin in a barn
better get a paycheck tattooed on my arm
whistlin' dixie with the dixie cup filled
with the barbecue sauce and the dental floss chill
I got bent like a wet cigarette
and she's comin after me with a butterfly net
ridin on a bloodhound ringin a bell
black cat wrapped in the road map to hell
pencil on my leg and I'm tryin not to beg
takin' turns bakin worms with the bacon and eggs
now they got me in a bird cage flappin' my jaw
like a pretzel in the stars just waitin' to fall
so give me what I got to get so I can go
cuz I ain't washin dishes in the ditch no more
cuz I ain't gonna work for no soul-suckin jerk
I'm gonna take it all back and I ain't sayin jack
cuz I ain't gonna work for no soul-suckin jerk
I'm gonna take it all back and I ain't sayin jack
you know it
that's right
rockin the town like a moldy crouton
flyin' through the air with breeze
I got a job makin money for the man
throwin' chicken in the bucket with the soda pop can
puke green uniform on my back
I had to set it on fire in a vat of chicken fat
I leaped on the counter like a bird with no hair
runnin' through the mini-mall in my underwear
I got lost downtown, couldn't find a ride home
sun went down, I got frozen to the bone
'til a hooker let me share her fake fur coat
as I took a little nap the cops picked up us both
I tried to explain I was only tryin' to get warm
I knew I never ever should have burnt my uniform
he said, "too bad better bite the bullet hard son."
I didn't have no teeth so I stole his gun
and I crawled out the window with my shadow on a spoon
dancin' on the roof, shootin' holes in the moon
and my mouth is full of sand and I don't understand
big fat fingers pointin' into my face
tellin me to get busy cleanin' up this place
fourteen days I've been sleepin in a barn
better get a paycheck tattooed on my arm
whistlin' dixie with the dixie cup filled
with the barbecue sauce and the dental floss chill
I got bent like a wet cigarette
and she's comin after me with a butterfly net
ridin on a bloodhound ringin a bell
black cat wrapped in the road map to hell
pencil on my leg and I'm tryin not to beg
takin' turns bakin worms with the bacon and eggs
now they got me in a bird cage flappin' my jaw
like a pretzel in the stars just waitin' to fall
so give me what I got to get so I can go
cuz I ain't washin dishes in the ditch no more
cuz I ain't gonna work for no soul-suckin jerk
I'm gonna take it all back and I ain't sayin jack
cuz I ain't gonna work for no soul-suckin jerk
I'm gonna take it all back and I ain't sayin jack
you know it
that's right
rockin the town like a moldy crouton
flyin' through the air with breeze
I got a job makin money for the man
throwin' chicken in the bucket with the soda pop can
puke green uniform on my back
I had to set it on fire in a vat of chicken fat
I leaped on the counter like a bird with no hair
runnin' through the mini-mall in my underwear
I got lost downtown, couldn't find a ride home
sun went down, I got frozen to the bone
'til a hooker let me share her fake fur coat
as I took a little nap the cops picked up us both
I tried to explain I was only tryin' to get warm
I knew I never ever should have burnt my uniform
he said, "too bad better bite the bullet hard son."
I didn't have no teeth so I stole his gun
and I crawled out the window with my shadow on a spoon
dancin' on the roof, shootin' holes in the moon
Writer: BECK HANSEN, CARL STEPHENSON
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Truckdrivin' Neighbors Downstairs (Yellow Sweat)
Come on, motherf*cker. Put your clothes on, come on
You lousy puke
F*ck you!!!
Why don't you call your mommy?
You're a f*cking drunk !!!
Yeah, I'm a f*cking drunk !!!
Come on, motherf*cker !!!
But you're a lousy lowlife who can't do nothin' for himself
Acid casualty with a repossessed car
Vietnam vet playin' air guitar
It's just the shit-kickin', speed-takin'
Truck-drivin' neighbors downstairs
Yeah...yeah
Whiskey-stained buck-toothed backwoods creep
Grizzly bear motherf*cker never goes to sleep
It's just the shit-kickin', speed-takin'
Truck-drivin' neighbors downstairs
Oh, yeah...yeah
Belly floppin' naked in a pool of yellow sweat
Screamin' jackass with a wet cigarette
It's just the shit-kickin', speed-takin'
Truck-drivin' neighbors downstairs
Oh
Oh, my goodness
Oh...
Mmm...
Psychotic breakdown double-edged axe
Growin' hair like a shag rug on his greasy back
It's just the shit-kickin', speed-takin'
Truck-drivin' neighbors downstairs
Oh my goodness
Oh my goodness
Oh, yeah
Come on, honey, feel the grease
Grease, grease
Come on, honey, feel the grease
Oh, my goodness
Come on, honey, feel the grease
Oh yeah
Come on, lay it on me
Bring it down one more time
Come on, honey...
You lousy puke
F*ck you!!!
Why don't you call your mommy?
You're a f*cking drunk !!!
Yeah, I'm a f*cking drunk !!!
Come on, motherf*cker !!!
But you're a lousy lowlife who can't do nothin' for himself
Acid casualty with a repossessed car
Vietnam vet playin' air guitar
It's just the shit-kickin', speed-takin'
Truck-drivin' neighbors downstairs
Yeah...yeah
Whiskey-stained buck-toothed backwoods creep
Grizzly bear motherf*cker never goes to sleep
It's just the shit-kickin', speed-takin'
Truck-drivin' neighbors downstairs
Oh, yeah...yeah
Belly floppin' naked in a pool of yellow sweat
Screamin' jackass with a wet cigarette
It's just the shit-kickin', speed-takin'
Truck-drivin' neighbors downstairs
Oh
Oh, my goodness
Oh...
Mmm...
Psychotic breakdown double-edged axe
Growin' hair like a shag rug on his greasy back
It's just the shit-kickin', speed-takin'
Truck-drivin' neighbors downstairs
Oh my goodness
Oh my goodness
Oh, yeah
Come on, honey, feel the grease
Grease, grease
Come on, honey, feel the grease
Oh, my goodness
Come on, honey, feel the grease
Oh yeah
Come on, lay it on me
Bring it down one more time
Come on, honey...
Writer: Beck Hansen
Copyright: Lyrics © Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.
Copyright: Lyrics © Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.
Sweet Sunshine
Judge me on the inside with a finger full of gravy
Want to get you on the sofa, lady, want to shake and bake me
Bucket full of blood, gotcha on my mind
I'm gonna break my face on the sweet sunshine
Bucket full of blood, gotcha on my mind
Gonna break my face on the sweet sunshine
I want to get up off the floor
I wanna run to the Devil and get me some more
I want to get up off the floor
I wanna run to the Devil and get me some more
Hollow full of bread with your husband screaming
We are skunk and soul and I found it on a screaming
Grab your wine, tell me when you been
With the violin crime and the moon gettin' thin
Grab your wine, tell me where you been
With the violin comin' and the moon gettin' thin
I want to climb up on the rug
I want to swing through the city on a wrecking ball
I want to climb up on the rug
I want to swing through the city on a wrecking ball
Lay on to the dawning of the pitiful sensation
'Cause the diamond full of salad and I kill my master nation
Got a bucket full of blood, gotcha on my mind
Gonna break my face on the sweet sunshine
Bucket full of blood, gotcha on my mind
Gonna break my face on the sweet sunshine
I want to get up off the floor
I wanna run to the Devil and get me some more
I want to get up off the floor
I wanna run to the Devil and get me some more
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Want to get you on the sofa, lady, want to shake and bake me
Bucket full of blood, gotcha on my mind
I'm gonna break my face on the sweet sunshine
Bucket full of blood, gotcha on my mind
Gonna break my face on the sweet sunshine
I want to get up off the floor
I wanna run to the Devil and get me some more
I want to get up off the floor
I wanna run to the Devil and get me some more
Hollow full of bread with your husband screaming
We are skunk and soul and I found it on a screaming
Grab your wine, tell me when you been
With the violin crime and the moon gettin' thin
Grab your wine, tell me where you been
With the violin comin' and the moon gettin' thin
I want to climb up on the rug
I want to swing through the city on a wrecking ball
I want to climb up on the rug
I want to swing through the city on a wrecking ball
Lay on to the dawning of the pitiful sensation
'Cause the diamond full of salad and I kill my master nation
Got a bucket full of blood, gotcha on my mind
Gonna break my face on the sweet sunshine
Bucket full of blood, gotcha on my mind
Gonna break my face on the sweet sunshine
I want to get up off the floor
I wanna run to the Devil and get me some more
I want to get up off the floor
I wanna run to the Devil and get me some more
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Writer: Beck Hansen, Carl Stephenson
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Beercan
Alcohol on my hands
I got plans
To ditch myself and get outside
Dancing women
Throwing plates
Decapitating their laughing dates
Swirling chickens caught in flight
Out of focus
Much too bright
Coming down
Shiny teeth
Game shows suckers trying to bleed
But I got a drug and I got the bug
And I got something better than love
How you like me now
Pretty good
Going on, feeling strong
I quit my job blowing leaves
Telephone bills up my sleeves
Choking like a one man dustbowl
Freedom rock slime ball
Talking in code
We went down
Lit up the shack
Grab me a beer out of the sack
Everybody bent over twice
Painting the walls throwing some dice
Leaping up into the air getting juiced up beyond belief
And they were singing like this
Winos throwing Frisbees at the sun
Put my soul between a bun
Now I'm hungry now I'm drunk
Now I'm running like a flaming pig
Oh yeah
Scraping off the attitude
Old man eating all my food
Don't be kind
Don't be rude
Just shake your boots and let it all get loose
Oh yeah
My goodness
Fluffy clouds
Jumping rainbows
Fluffy clouds
I'm sad
Jumping rainbows
A soft and snuggly place
[Repeat]
Fluffy clouds
I'm sad and unhappy
Winos throwing Frisbees at the sun
Put my soul between a bun
Now I'm horny now I'm drunk
Now I'm running like a flaming pig
Oh yeah, I like it like that
Oh that is cold
Somebody put a flame-thrower on that
Oh my goodness
Take me down to the depot
Buddy put me down on the bus
Oh yeah
I like it like that
Somebody bring me a plate of sassafras
Hey hey hey
Uh-huh
What's happening'
I got plans
To ditch myself and get outside
Dancing women
Throwing plates
Decapitating their laughing dates
Swirling chickens caught in flight
Out of focus
Much too bright
Coming down
Shiny teeth
Game shows suckers trying to bleed
But I got a drug and I got the bug
And I got something better than love
How you like me now
Pretty good
Going on, feeling strong
I quit my job blowing leaves
Telephone bills up my sleeves
Choking like a one man dustbowl
Freedom rock slime ball
Talking in code
We went down
Lit up the shack
Grab me a beer out of the sack
Everybody bent over twice
Painting the walls throwing some dice
Leaping up into the air getting juiced up beyond belief
And they were singing like this
Winos throwing Frisbees at the sun
Put my soul between a bun
Now I'm hungry now I'm drunk
Now I'm running like a flaming pig
Oh yeah
Scraping off the attitude
Old man eating all my food
Don't be kind
Don't be rude
Just shake your boots and let it all get loose
Oh yeah
My goodness
Fluffy clouds
Jumping rainbows
Fluffy clouds
I'm sad
Jumping rainbows
A soft and snuggly place
[Repeat]
Fluffy clouds
I'm sad and unhappy
Winos throwing Frisbees at the sun
Put my soul between a bun
Now I'm horny now I'm drunk
Now I'm running like a flaming pig
Oh yeah, I like it like that
Oh that is cold
Somebody put a flame-thrower on that
Oh my goodness
Take me down to the depot
Buddy put me down on the bus
Oh yeah
I like it like that
Somebody bring me a plate of sassafras
Hey hey hey
Uh-huh
What's happening'
Writer: BECK HANSEN, CARL STEPHENSON
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Steal My Body Home
Put me in a hole in the ground
With the money and the towel
And the women all runnin' around
Can't complain about the mess
Momma killed the only dress
Now she's longin' for the pines
Watch my troubles all unwind
Drinkin' gasoline and wine
Catch a chill off the stove
On the train, they cannot feel
Lost my head beneath the wheel
Now she steals my body home
The trees are fake, the air is dead
The birds are stuffed with poison lead
And the ground is much too clean
And if it's only me who's scared
Strap 'em to electric chairs
Ring the moon like a broken bell
When she drags you from the hill
Daddy's gonna burn down the still
We can watch it from the rooftop
Lay in to the fryin' pan
Now she kisses her own hand
With the fiddle on the fire
I took a leap into the fog
Sleepin' on a hollow log
Now I'm coughin' with no mouth
You can keep yourself inside
But you know you cannot lie
When the devil's your only friend
With the money and the towel
And the women all runnin' around
Can't complain about the mess
Momma killed the only dress
Now she's longin' for the pines
Watch my troubles all unwind
Drinkin' gasoline and wine
Catch a chill off the stove
On the train, they cannot feel
Lost my head beneath the wheel
Now she steals my body home
The trees are fake, the air is dead
The birds are stuffed with poison lead
And the ground is much too clean
And if it's only me who's scared
Strap 'em to electric chairs
Ring the moon like a broken bell
When she drags you from the hill
Daddy's gonna burn down the still
We can watch it from the rooftop
Lay in to the fryin' pan
Now she kisses her own hand
With the fiddle on the fire
I took a leap into the fog
Sleepin' on a hollow log
Now I'm coughin' with no mouth
You can keep yourself inside
But you know you cannot lie
When the devil's your only friend
Writer: Beck Hansen
Copyright: Lyrics © Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.
Copyright: Lyrics © Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.
Nitemare Hippy Girl
She took me off my guard with disappointment
I got sucked inside of her apartment
She's got dried-up flowers, flakey skin
A beaded necklace and a bottle of gin
She's a nightmare hippy girl
With her skinny fingers fondlin' my world
She's a whimsical, tragical beauty
Self-conscious and a little bit fruity
It's a new age let-down in my face
She's so spaced out and there ain't no space
She's got marijuana on the bathroom tile
I'm caught in a vortex, she's changin' my style
[Backing vocals:] Ooh, ooh... [etc...]
She's a nightmare hippy girl
With her skinny fingers fondlin' my world
She's a whimsical, tragical beauty
Uptight and a little bit snooty
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh
[Backing vocals:] Ooh, ooh... [etc...]
She's a magical, sparklin' tease
She's a rainbow chokin' the breeze
Yo, she's busting out onto the scene
With nightmare bogus poetry
She's a melted avocado on the shelf
She's the science of herself
She's spazing out on a cosmic level
And she's meditating with the devil
She's cooking salad for breakfast
She's got tofu the size of Texas
She's a witness to her own glory
She's a never-ending story
She's a frolicking depression
She's a self-inflicted obsession
She's got a thousand lonely husbands
She's playin' footsie in another dimension
She's a goddess milking the time for all that it's worth
I got sucked inside of her apartment
She's got dried-up flowers, flakey skin
A beaded necklace and a bottle of gin
She's a nightmare hippy girl
With her skinny fingers fondlin' my world
She's a whimsical, tragical beauty
Self-conscious and a little bit fruity
It's a new age let-down in my face
She's so spaced out and there ain't no space
She's got marijuana on the bathroom tile
I'm caught in a vortex, she's changin' my style
[Backing vocals:] Ooh, ooh... [etc...]
She's a nightmare hippy girl
With her skinny fingers fondlin' my world
She's a whimsical, tragical beauty
Uptight and a little bit snooty
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh
[Backing vocals:] Ooh, ooh... [etc...]
She's a magical, sparklin' tease
She's a rainbow chokin' the breeze
Yo, she's busting out onto the scene
With nightmare bogus poetry
She's a melted avocado on the shelf
She's the science of herself
She's spazing out on a cosmic level
And she's meditating with the devil
She's cooking salad for breakfast
She's got tofu the size of Texas
She's a witness to her own glory
She's a never-ending story
She's a frolicking depression
She's a self-inflicted obsession
She's got a thousand lonely husbands
She's playin' footsie in another dimension
She's a goddess milking the time for all that it's worth
Writer: Beck Hansen
Copyright: Lyrics © Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.
Copyright: Lyrics © Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.
Mutherfuker
Yo homey don't play that game
Hey mister asshole what's your dirty hassle
Sitting in your castle judging everyone
You're acting like it's chill when the deal's getting ill
Why don't you break your face on my head
Everyone's out to get you motherf*cker
Everyone's out to get you motherf*cker
Total paranoia trying to annoy you
Everything i do is to try and f*ck you up
Screwdrivers drillin' and I was such a spasm
Dropped yourself on the situation, dude
Everyone's out to get you motherf*cker
Everyone's out to get you motherf*cker
Hey mister asshole what's your dirty hassle
Sitting in your castle judging everyone
You're acting like it's chill when the deal's getting ill
Why don't you break your face on my head
Everyone's out to get you motherf*cker
Everyone's out to get you motherf*cker
Total paranoia trying to annoy you
Everything i do is to try and f*ck you up
Screwdrivers drillin' and I was such a spasm
Dropped yourself on the situation, dude
Everyone's out to get you motherf*cker
Everyone's out to get you motherf*cker
Writer: Beck Hansen
Copyright: Lyrics © Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.
Copyright: Lyrics © Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.
Blackhole
When we, when we
Looking for a better home
Got me, got me
Burning out a light bulb
Cloudy, cloudy
Holding to a waste can
Yellow car, yellow car
Gather me inside there
Wake up, wake up
Nothing's gonna harm you
Glass wall, glass wall
Standing on the furniture
Little boy, little boy
Layin' in a sleeping bag
Watching, watching
Through the cracks in his eyelids
Stranger, stranger
Feeding on the broken snow
Lost head, lost head
Staring down the orange juice
Alphabet, alphabet
Can't afford a telephone
Blackhole, blackhole
Nothing's gonna harm you
Looking for a better home
Got me, got me
Burning out a light bulb
Cloudy, cloudy
Holding to a waste can
Yellow car, yellow car
Gather me inside there
Wake up, wake up
Nothing's gonna harm you
Glass wall, glass wall
Standing on the furniture
Little boy, little boy
Layin' in a sleeping bag
Watching, watching
Through the cracks in his eyelids
Stranger, stranger
Feeding on the broken snow
Lost head, lost head
Staring down the orange juice
Alphabet, alphabet
Can't afford a telephone
Blackhole, blackhole
Nothing's gonna harm you
Writer: Beck Hansen
Copyright: Lyrics © Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.
Copyright: Lyrics © Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.
Mellow Gold is the third studio album by American musician Beck, released on March 1, 1994, by DGC Records. Critics noted the album's hybrid of various styles including rock, hip hop, folk, blues, psychedelia, and country, as well as ironic, witty lyrics.
Its decidedly anti-commercial attitude led to it becoming an unexpected commercial success, peaking at number thirteen in the United States and eventually being certified platinum.
In a 1994 interview with Rolling Stone, Beck said of the album:
"The whole concept of Mellow Gold is that it's like a satanic K-tel record that's been found in a trash dumpster, quite matter-of-factly. A few people have molested it and slept with it and half-swallowed it before spitting it out. Someone played poker with it, someone tried to smoke it.
Then the record was taken to Morocco and covered with hummus and tabouli. Then it was flown back to a convention of water-skiers, who skied on it and played Frisbee with it. Then the record was put on the turntable, and the original K-Tel album had reached a whole new level. I was just taking that whole Freedom Rock feeling, you understand."
Performed By:
BeckIts decidedly anti-commercial attitude led to it becoming an unexpected commercial success, peaking at number thirteen in the United States and eventually being certified platinum.
In a 1994 interview with Rolling Stone, Beck said of the album:
"The whole concept of Mellow Gold is that it's like a satanic K-tel record that's been found in a trash dumpster, quite matter-of-factly. A few people have molested it and slept with it and half-swallowed it before spitting it out. Someone played poker with it, someone tried to smoke it.
Then the record was taken to Morocco and covered with hummus and tabouli. Then it was flown back to a convention of water-skiers, who skied on it and played Frisbee with it. Then the record was put on the turntable, and the original K-Tel album had reached a whole new level. I was just taking that whole Freedom Rock feeling, you understand."
Genre(s): Alternative rock, anti-folk, experimental rock, lo-fi
Producer(s): Beck Hansen, Tom Rothrock, Rob Schnapf, Carl Stephenson
Released: March 1st, 1994
Year: 1994