There is woman - pie in here
Mr. evangelist says she's hit
The best cook ya ever had
Ya can't blame the good woman now, dad
And ya locked him up for twenty years
Now there's action on the basement stairs now
A monster half-man half-beast grind
Hear the hatchet (grind grind)
The pilgrim gets one hacked daughter
And all we get are forty hack reporters
Uptown one hundred skirts are bleeding
And mr. evangelist says
She's hit ev'ry little bit
She's hit ev'ry little bit
She's hit ev'ry little bit
She's hit she's hit she's hit she's hit
Now if only we could all grow wings and fly
Sweet hatchet swing low son
I'm feeling mighty lonesome
Christen the bastard jack dad
The head-shrinker is a quack
Anyone 'anyone who'd wear their hair like that'
The vinyl is so cool but the conversation's cruel
Hold my head romeo it's in a rodeo
Hold my heart daddy-o it just won't go-o-o-o
Hold my heart romeo it's in a rodeo
Hold my head daddy-o it just won't go-o-o-o
And all the girls across the world
And all the girls across the world
Are hit ev'ry little bit
She's hit ev'ry little bit
She's hit ev'ry little bit
She's hit ev'ry little bit
She's hit she's hit she's hit she's hit
And she won't get up
She's hit ev'ry little bit she's hit
She's hit she's hit she's hit yeah
She's hit she's hit she's hit
And she won't get up! and she's hit she's hit
She's hit ev'ry little bit
She's hit she's hit she's hit
Goodbye.
The Birthday Party - Junkyard Album Lyrics
The Birthday Party - Junkyard Lyrics
Copyright: Lyrics © Original Writer and Publisher
Dead Joe
Dead Joe Joe... Joe Joe
Oh-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho Dead Joe
Oh-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho Dead Joe
Welcome to the car smash
Welcome to the car smash
Welcome to the car smash
A-a-a-a-a-smash
Dead Joe
Junk-Sculpture turning back to JUNK
Junk-Sculpture turning back to JUNK
Junk-Sculpture turning back to JUNK
Ju-ju-ju-ju-junk
Dead Joe
Oh Joe no-o-o-o-o-o! it's christmas time Joe
It's christmans time now for you
And all the little bells are hanging two-by-two
The holly and the nativity
Oh speak to me Joe speak to me Joe speak to me oh
Oh-oh-oh---oh--oh--oh--oh--oh--oh--oh
De-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e--e-e-e-ead Joe
Oh-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho Dead Joe
Oh-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho Dead Joe
Welcome to the car smash
Welcome to the car smash
Welcome to the car crash
You can't tell the girls from the boys anymore
You can't tell the girls from the boys anymore
You can't tell the girls from the boys anymore
You can't tell the girls from the boys anymore
Ho-Oh-Oh-OH-Oh-Oh---Oh--Oh--Oh---Oh---Oh---Oh
De-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e---e-e-e-e-ead Joe.
Oh-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho Dead Joe
Oh-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho Dead Joe
Welcome to the car smash
Welcome to the car smash
Welcome to the car smash
A-a-a-a-a-smash
Dead Joe
Junk-Sculpture turning back to JUNK
Junk-Sculpture turning back to JUNK
Junk-Sculpture turning back to JUNK
Ju-ju-ju-ju-junk
Dead Joe
Oh Joe no-o-o-o-o-o! it's christmas time Joe
It's christmans time now for you
And all the little bells are hanging two-by-two
The holly and the nativity
Oh speak to me Joe speak to me Joe speak to me oh
Oh-oh-oh---oh--oh--oh--oh--oh--oh--oh
De-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e--e-e-e-ead Joe
Oh-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho Dead Joe
Oh-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho Dead Joe
Welcome to the car smash
Welcome to the car smash
Welcome to the car crash
You can't tell the girls from the boys anymore
You can't tell the girls from the boys anymore
You can't tell the girls from the boys anymore
You can't tell the girls from the boys anymore
Ho-Oh-Oh-OH-Oh-Oh---Oh--Oh--Oh---Oh---Oh---Oh
De-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e---e-e-e-e-ead Joe.
Copyright: Lyrics © Original Writer and Publisher
The Dim Locator
Inanimational items elude i, and
In-an-emotional-motion I swallow my
Motive of quicker location is slammed
My dim chance of skipping this thick world is thin
They call me dim
I am the dim locator,
Dim locator
Loco, lomo, loco, lomo, l'wow, wow, wow
Loco, lomo, loco, lomo, l'wow, wow, wow
Loco, lomo, loco, lomo, l'wow, wow, wow
Loco, lomo, loco, lomo
Intriquintomitry treads on my trail
Entriggering traps for a gross gang of ghost types
Who later are packed in a cast iron trunk
These things have been known, to get out of their wraps
Don't call me dim
I am the dim locator,
Dim locator
Loco, lomo, loco, lomo, l'wow, wow, wow
Loco, lomo, loco, lomo, l'wow, wow, wow
Loco, lomo, loco, lomo, l'wow, wow, wow
Loco, lomo, loco, lomo, l'wow, wow, wow, wowwwwww!
Fog fished and filtered is filling my case book, of
Friends who fall foul of my files trip and breakneck
Are stacked in the woodshed for further good use
There's some certain people who shouldn't start fires
So call me dim!
I am the dim locator!
Dim locator!
Don't call me dim!
I am the dim locator
Don't call me dim!
I am the dim locator
Don't call me dim!
In-an-emotional-motion I swallow my
Motive of quicker location is slammed
My dim chance of skipping this thick world is thin
They call me dim
I am the dim locator,
Dim locator
Loco, lomo, loco, lomo, l'wow, wow, wow
Loco, lomo, loco, lomo, l'wow, wow, wow
Loco, lomo, loco, lomo, l'wow, wow, wow
Loco, lomo, loco, lomo
Intriquintomitry treads on my trail
Entriggering traps for a gross gang of ghost types
Who later are packed in a cast iron trunk
These things have been known, to get out of their wraps
Don't call me dim
I am the dim locator,
Dim locator
Loco, lomo, loco, lomo, l'wow, wow, wow
Loco, lomo, loco, lomo, l'wow, wow, wow
Loco, lomo, loco, lomo, l'wow, wow, wow
Loco, lomo, loco, lomo, l'wow, wow, wow, wowwwwww!
Fog fished and filtered is filling my case book, of
Friends who fall foul of my files trip and breakneck
Are stacked in the woodshed for further good use
There's some certain people who shouldn't start fires
So call me dim!
I am the dim locator!
Dim locator!
Don't call me dim!
I am the dim locator
Don't call me dim!
I am the dim locator
Don't call me dim!
Copyright: Lyrics © Original Writer and Publisher
Hamlet (Pow, Pow, Pow)
H! A! M! L! E! T! Yeah...
Hamlet's fishing in the grave
A-fishing in the grave
Thru the custard bones and stuff
He ain't got no friend in there
No he ain't got no friend in there
I believe our man's in love
Hamlet got a gun-now
He wears a crucifix
He wears a crucifix
Pow pow pow pow/pow pow pow pow
Hamlet move so beautiful
Moves so beautiful
Walking thru the flowers
Waving to the people
All those beautiful people
Lying in the shadows
He's movin' down the street-now
He likes the look of that Cadillac
And now he wants that Cadillac
Pow pow pow pow/pow pow pow pow
Is this love some kinda love
Is this love some kinda love
Now he's comin' down my street
Crawling up my stairs
He's coming to my room
He's knocking on my door
WHERE FOR ART THOU BABY-FACE
Where... for... art... thou...
Pow pow pow pow/pow pow pow pow
Is this love
Is this love
POW!
He shoot it inside
He shoot it inside
POW!
Some kinda love...
Don't let 'em steal your heart away
He went and stole my heart POW!
Hey hey hey POW!!
Hamlet's fishing in the grave
A-fishing in the grave
Thru the custard bones and stuff
He ain't got no friend in there
No he ain't got no friend in there
I believe our man's in love
Hamlet got a gun-now
He wears a crucifix
He wears a crucifix
Pow pow pow pow/pow pow pow pow
Hamlet move so beautiful
Moves so beautiful
Walking thru the flowers
Waving to the people
All those beautiful people
Lying in the shadows
He's movin' down the street-now
He likes the look of that Cadillac
And now he wants that Cadillac
Pow pow pow pow/pow pow pow pow
Is this love some kinda love
Is this love some kinda love
Now he's comin' down my street
Crawling up my stairs
He's coming to my room
He's knocking on my door
WHERE FOR ART THOU BABY-FACE
Where... for... art... thou...
Pow pow pow pow/pow pow pow pow
Is this love
Is this love
POW!
He shoot it inside
He shoot it inside
POW!
Some kinda love...
Don't let 'em steal your heart away
He went and stole my heart POW!
Hey hey hey POW!!
Copyright: Lyrics © Original Writer and Publisher
Several Sins
This is a dead letter tale
If I could make this print talk
You made a deep mark/deep mark on me
And only saints say such things as these
So I slid under the floor
Under the oak and the iron
With you under oak and iron
Under the thick and under the thin
Where only fire grows...
I forgot to tell you several things - ma
I forgot to tell you several things - ma
I forgot to tell you several things - ma
I forgot to tell you 'bout the 7 sins
And I spat dead letter words
And all the breath that I own
Imprinted one word in red/i read
And only saints say such things as these
About the marks on your throat
Under the oak and the iron
Under the fat and the thick and the thin
And all of that, and a few 100 more
And only fire grow
I heard the fire grow
Alone in the...
I forgot to tell you several things - ma
I forgot to tell you several things - ma
I forgot to tell you several things - ma
I forgot to tell you 'bout the 7 sins
[repeat to end]
If I could make this print talk
You made a deep mark/deep mark on me
And only saints say such things as these
So I slid under the floor
Under the oak and the iron
With you under oak and iron
Under the thick and under the thin
Where only fire grows...
I forgot to tell you several things - ma
I forgot to tell you several things - ma
I forgot to tell you several things - ma
I forgot to tell you 'bout the 7 sins
And I spat dead letter words
And all the breath that I own
Imprinted one word in red/i read
And only saints say such things as these
About the marks on your throat
Under the oak and the iron
Under the fat and the thick and the thin
And all of that, and a few 100 more
And only fire grow
I heard the fire grow
Alone in the...
I forgot to tell you several things - ma
I forgot to tell you several things - ma
I forgot to tell you several things - ma
I forgot to tell you 'bout the 7 sins
[repeat to end]
Copyright: Lyrics © Original Writer and Publisher
Big-jesus-trash-can
Right!
Big-Jesus soul-mates Trash-Can
F*cking rotten business this
Both feet in the Bad-Boot
Stiff in the crypt, babay, like a rock
Rock-rock-rock
Big-Jesus soul-mates Trash-Can
And he pumped me fulla Trash at least it smelt like Trash
And he's got greasy hair wears a suit of Gold
But god gave me Sex appeal
Right right
Well-well-well-rock
Well-well-well-rock
Well-well-well-rock
Well-well-well-rock
He drives a Trash-Can
He drives a Trash-Can
He drives a Trash-Can
He drives a Trash-Can
He's comin' to my town
He's comin' to my town
He's comin' to my town
He's comin' to my town rock-rock-rock-
R-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-ck!
Right!
Big-Jesus-Oil-King down in Texas
Drives great holy tanks of Gold
Screams from heaven's Graveyard
American heads will roll in Texas
Roll llike daddy's meat
Roll under those singing stars of Texas
Roll under those glorious singing stars of Texas
Well-well-well-rock
Well-well-well-rock
Well-well-well-rock
Well-well-well-rock
He drives a Trash-Can
He drives a Trash-Can
He drives a Trash-Can
He's comin' to my town
He drives a Trash-Can
He's comin' to my town
He drives a Trash-Can
He's comin' to my town
He drives a Trash-Can
He's comin' to my town
He drives a Trash-Can
Big-Jesus soul-mates Trash-Can
F*cking rotten business this
Both feet in the Bad-Boot
Stiff in the crypt, babay, like a rock
Rock-rock-rock
Big-Jesus soul-mates Trash-Can
And he pumped me fulla Trash at least it smelt like Trash
And he's got greasy hair wears a suit of Gold
But god gave me Sex appeal
Right right
Well-well-well-rock
Well-well-well-rock
Well-well-well-rock
Well-well-well-rock
He drives a Trash-Can
He drives a Trash-Can
He drives a Trash-Can
He drives a Trash-Can
He's comin' to my town
He's comin' to my town
He's comin' to my town
He's comin' to my town rock-rock-rock-
R-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-ck!
Right!
Big-Jesus-Oil-King down in Texas
Drives great holy tanks of Gold
Screams from heaven's Graveyard
American heads will roll in Texas
Roll llike daddy's meat
Roll under those singing stars of Texas
Roll under those glorious singing stars of Texas
Well-well-well-rock
Well-well-well-rock
Well-well-well-rock
Well-well-well-rock
He drives a Trash-Can
He drives a Trash-Can
He drives a Trash-Can
He's comin' to my town
He drives a Trash-Can
He's comin' to my town
He drives a Trash-Can
He's comin' to my town
He drives a Trash-Can
He's comin' to my town
He drives a Trash-Can
Copyright: Lyrics © Original Writer and Publisher
Kiss Me Black
Hey-hey-hey-hey
Now they put the stink on us
Throw us to the sucubus
Fed us to the incubus
And brung in the Saprophagus
C'mon and kiss me black
Black as the pit in which you found me
She's like a dog you have to kick her
Sleeps like a swastica
And says 'everyone's a winner now
Cos everyone's a sinner now'
C'mon and kiss me black
C'mon and sail your ships around me
C'mon and kiss me black
Black as the sea in which you drowned me
C'mon and kiss me black
Run your crusty cutless through me
C'mon and kiss me black
Kiss me black and then undo me.
Now they put the stink on us
Throw us to the sucubus
Fed us to the incubus
And brung in the Saprophagus
C'mon and kiss me black
Black as the pit in which you found me
She's like a dog you have to kick her
Sleeps like a swastica
And says 'everyone's a winner now
Cos everyone's a sinner now'
C'mon and kiss me black
C'mon and sail your ships around me
C'mon and kiss me black
Black as the sea in which you drowned me
C'mon and kiss me black
Run your crusty cutless through me
C'mon and kiss me black
Kiss me black and then undo me.
Copyright: Lyrics © Original Writer and Publisher
6" Gold Blade
I stuck a six-inch gold blade in the head of a girl
She: lying through her teeth, him: on his back
Hands off this one, hands off! she cried
Grinning at me from hip to hip
Hands off, pretty baby, tough bone then so soft to slip
Oooh yeah
I stuck a six-inch gold blade in the head of a girl
Sharks-fin slices sugar-bed slices that pretty red-head
I love you! now me! I love you!
Laughter, laughter
Oh baby, those skinny girls, they're so quick to murder
Oooh yeah
Shake it baby, c'mon, shake, shake it baby
[ad infinitum]
She: lying through her teeth, him: on his back
Hands off this one, hands off! she cried
Grinning at me from hip to hip
Hands off, pretty baby, tough bone then so soft to slip
Oooh yeah
I stuck a six-inch gold blade in the head of a girl
Sharks-fin slices sugar-bed slices that pretty red-head
I love you! now me! I love you!
Laughter, laughter
Oh baby, those skinny girls, they're so quick to murder
Oooh yeah
Shake it baby, c'mon, shake, shake it baby
[ad infinitum]
Copyright: Lyrics © Original Writer and Publisher
Kewpie Doll
Well I love that kewpie doll
Well I love that kewpie doll
Well I love that kewpie doll
Yeah I bought her in a show
I dressed her up in a cheap red cotton dress
But everything was either fished-out or spat-out
Fished-out or spat-out
Well I love that kewpie doll
But I could not make it stick
Well I love that kewpie doll
But I could not make it stick
Only she could save my soul
She put her hands inside of me
Well I love that kewpie doll
Dressed her in a cheap-red-cotton-dress
Fished it out now spat it out now
Spat it out in front of me
Well I love that kewpie doll
But I could not make it stick
Doll doll doll doll doll doll doll doll
I held her in my cheap arms
She believed in me, she believed in me
Her soul and my arms
Well I love that kewpie doll
I told her phoney stories
Well I love that kewpie doll
She believed in me
Doll doll doll doll doll doll doll doll
Kewpie on a stick
I can see her coming even now
Kewpie on a stick
I can see her walking to me even now
Well I love that kewpie doll
I can see her walking to me even now
Well I love that kewpie doll
I can see her walking to me even now
Well I love that kewpie doll
But I could not make it stick. end.
Well I love that kewpie doll
Well I love that kewpie doll
Yeah I bought her in a show
I dressed her up in a cheap red cotton dress
But everything was either fished-out or spat-out
Fished-out or spat-out
Well I love that kewpie doll
But I could not make it stick
Well I love that kewpie doll
But I could not make it stick
Only she could save my soul
She put her hands inside of me
Well I love that kewpie doll
Dressed her in a cheap-red-cotton-dress
Fished it out now spat it out now
Spat it out in front of me
Well I love that kewpie doll
But I could not make it stick
Doll doll doll doll doll doll doll doll
I held her in my cheap arms
She believed in me, she believed in me
Her soul and my arms
Well I love that kewpie doll
I told her phoney stories
Well I love that kewpie doll
She believed in me
Doll doll doll doll doll doll doll doll
Kewpie on a stick
I can see her coming even now
Kewpie on a stick
I can see her walking to me even now
Well I love that kewpie doll
I can see her walking to me even now
Well I love that kewpie doll
I can see her walking to me even now
Well I love that kewpie doll
But I could not make it stick. end.
Copyright: Lyrics © Original Writer and Publisher
Junkyard
I am the King. I am the King. I am the King.
One dead marine through the hatch
Scratch and scrape this heavenly body
Every inch of winning skin
There's junk in honey's sack again
Honey Honey Honey Honey Honey
Come on and kiss me-e-e-e-e-e
Honey Honey Honey Honey Honey
Honey-child's takin' over this place
Two dead marines standing in a line
Drink to me! this heavenly body
Every inch of winning thing
Honey Honey Honey Honey Honey
Come on and kiss me-e-e-e-e-e
Honey Honey Honey Honey Honey
Honey-shild's takin' over this place
Hack hack hack hack this heavenly
Yack yack yack yack yack goes junk-face
Scratch scrape scratch this winning skin
There's junk in Honey's sack again
There's junk in Honey's sack again
There's junk in Honey's sack again
Junk in honey junk in honey
Junkyard King Junkyard King
King King King King King
One dead marine through the hatch
Scratch and scrape this heavenly body
Every inch of winning skin
There's junk in honey's sack again
Honey Honey Honey Honey Honey
Come on and kiss me-e-e-e-e-e
Honey Honey Honey Honey Honey
Honey-child's takin' over this place
Two dead marines standing in a line
Drink to me! this heavenly body
Every inch of winning thing
Honey Honey Honey Honey Honey
Come on and kiss me-e-e-e-e-e
Honey Honey Honey Honey Honey
Honey-shild's takin' over this place
Hack hack hack hack this heavenly
Yack yack yack yack yack goes junk-face
Scratch scrape scratch this winning skin
There's junk in Honey's sack again
There's junk in Honey's sack again
There's junk in Honey's sack again
Junk in honey junk in honey
Junkyard King Junkyard King
King King King King King
Copyright: Lyrics © Original Writer and Publisher
Junkyard is the third studio album by Australian post-punk group the Birthday Party. It was released on 10 July 1982 through the label 4AD in the UK and through Missing Link Records in Australia. It was the group's last full-length studio recording. It has received critical acclaim.
Performed By:
The Birthday PartyGenre(s): Post-punk, punk blues
Length: 47:08
Released: July 10th, 1982
Year: 1982