I coulda swore her hair was made of rayon
She wore a Milton Bradley crayon
But she was something I could lay on
Can't remember what became of me
Carolina Hardcore Ecstasy
She put a Doobie Brothers tape on
(La la la la la la)
I had a Roger Daltrey cape on
(A Roger Daltrey cape on)
There was a bed I dumped her shape on
Can't remember what became of me
Carolina Hardcore Ecstasy
Somewhat later on
I woke up and she was gone
There was dew out on the lawn
In the sunrise
Later she came back
With a rumpled paper sack
Which she told me would contain
A surprise
She stuck her hand right in it to the bottom
Said she knew I'd be surprised she got 'em
Take a Charleston pimp to spot 'em
Then she gave a pair of shoes to me
Plastic leather, 14 triple D
I said, "I wonder what's the shoes for?"
She told me, "Don't you worry no more!"
And got right down there on the tile floor
"Now, darling, stomp all over me!"
Carolina Hardcore Ecstasy
Is this something new
Having people stomp on you?
Is it what I need to do
For your pleasure?
(Your pleasure... it's all I need)
"What is this, a quiz?"
"Don't you worry what it is
It is merely just a moment
I can treasure"
(What this-?)
(You know)
By ten o'clock her arms and legs were rendered
She couldn't talk 'cause her mouth had been extendered
It looked to me as though she had been blendered
But was this abject misery?
No! No!
Carolina Hardcore Ecstasy!
Well...
But was this abject misery?
No! No!
Carolina Hardcore Ecstasy!
But was this abject misery?
No! No!
Carolina Hardcore Ecstasy!
It might seem strange to Herb and Dee
Carolina Hardcore Ecstasy!
[includes quotes from Sweet Leilani (Owens) and Louie Louie (Richard Berry)]
Sam with the showing scalp flat top,
Particular about the point it made.
(I got it... )
Why, when I was knee-high to a grasshopper,
This black juice came out on a hard shelled chin.
And they called that 'tobacco juice'.
I used to fiddle with my back feet music for a black onyx.
My entire room absorbed every echo.
The music was... thud like.
The music was... thud like.
I usually played such things as rough-neck and thug.
Opaque melodies that would bug most people.
Music from the other side of the fence.
A black swan figurine lay on all color lily pads.
On a little conglomeration table of pressed black felt.
With same color shadows, in seamed knobbed knees, and what-nots.
The long hallway rolled out into oddball odd.
Beside the fly-pecked black doorway,
That looked closed on the tar-lattice street.
Up a wrought iron fire escape.
Rolled out a tiny wooden platform with dark, hard, dark rubber wheels.
Roll, skreek! Roll, skreek! Roll, skreek!
Sam with the showing scalp flat top,
Particular about the point it made.
Sam was a BASKET CASE!
A hardened dark ivory clip held... saleable everyday pencils.
I wish I had a pair 'o bongos!
Bongo Fury!
Bongo Fury!
Oowwwww! Bongo Fury!
(Boogie!)
Bongo Fury!
Bongo Fury...
Bongo Fury...
Poofter's Froth, Wyoming
March Eleven Sixty-Seven
Take a letter
Miss Abetter
As our pigeons
Will be homing
To our jobbers in Dakota
And to Merwyn, Minnesota
This is merely just a note about
Performance to our quota
Well, we all come out
To show dem
An' the Elks have helped us
Load 'em
Little packets full of jackets
Little rackets, little rackets
Little Poofter - Cloth Appointments
Little Poofter's Froth Anointments
Little hoods, little goods,
Little doo-dads from the woods
The entire stock is shipping
Oh our shod is hardly slipping
To the markets of the world
Our wrinkled pennants are unfurled!
T-shirt racks, rubber snacks,
Poster rolls with matching tacks
Yes, a special beer for sports
(and paper cups that hold two quarts)
Everything a nation needs
For making hoopla while if feeds
The trash compactors, small reactors,
Mowers, blowers, throwers & the glowers:
This is Buy-Cent-Any-All Salute (HYULK!)
Two hundred years have gone ka-poot!
Ah but we have been astute!
Signed: Anon. - Wyo. Galoot!
"200 Years Old"
I was sittin' in a breakfast room in Allentown, Pennsylvania,
six o'clock in the morning, got up too early, it was a terrible mistake...
sittin' there face-to-face with a 75 cent glass of orange juice
about as big as my finger and a bowl of horribly foreshortened cornflakes,
and I said to myself: "This is the life!"...
She's two hundred years old
So mean she couldn't grow no lips
Boy, she'd be in trouble if she
Tried to grow a mustache
She's two hundred years old
Squattin' down & pockin' up
In front of the juke box
Like she had true religion, boy
Like she had true religion
She's two hundred years old
Hoy hoy, 200 years old
Half of this, none of that,
One-fifty oh squattin'
Yeah-ah, ain't she got
Religion now, boy
"Cucamonga"
Out in Cucamonga
Many years ago
Near a Holy Roller Church
There was once a place
Where me and a couple of friends
Began practicing for the time
We might go
"Advance Romance"
No more credit
From the liquor store
Suit is all dirty, my
Shoes is all wore
Tired and lonely, my
Heart is all sore
Advance romance
I can't stand it no more
She told me she loved me
I believed what she said
Took me for a sucker, boy
All corn-fed
Next thing I knew
She had a bolt on the door
Advance romance
I can't use it no more
She took André's watch
Like they always do
(It was a Timex, too!)
(Wah-Hoo-Hoo
Wah-Hah-Hoo-Hoo)
(And-a shame on you)
No more money, boy
I shoulda knew
(I tried to tell you)
(Well, I didn't listen)
(He wouldn't listen to me)
(I couldn't listen to ya...)
(I said look it here, when you go to Australia, don't be messin' around with no kangaroos, and the sheep and lamb)
The way she do me, boy
She might do you, too
The way she do me, boy
She might do you, too
The way she do me, boy
She might do you, too
(Now, look what she did to André tonight, with that wig and everything!)
Advance romance
Oh, people we are through
Potato-head Bobby
Was a friend of mine
Opened three of his eyes
In the food stamp line
He opened four of his eyes
In the food stamp line
He opened three of his eyes
In the food stamp line
He opened six of his eyes
In the food stamp line
But, Frank, you know she might be a devil
They go blue poppin' eyes
Might be a devil
Horns... little thing in the wagon...
Might be a devil... really, little thing... pointed...
... wagon... you know
Advance romance
He wanna try it one time
He said he don't mind
Later that night
He drop on by
Told her all he want to do
Was step up and say "Hi"
(Hi-Hi, Hi-Hi, Hi-Hi, Hi-Hi
Hi-Hi, Hi-Hi, Hi-Hi, Hi-Hi)
Half an hour later
She had frenched his fry
Advance romance
Bobby, say good-bye
(Bye bye!)
Advance romance
Bobby, say good-bye
Are you with me on this, people?
The man with the woman head
Polynesian wallpaper made the face stand out,
a mixture of Oriental and early vaudeville jazz poofter,
forming a hard, beetle-like, triangular chin much like a praying mantis.
Smoky razor-cut, low on the ear neck profile.
The face the color of a nicotine-stained hand.
Dark circles collected under the wrinkled, folded eyes,
map-like from too much turquoise eyepaint.
He showed his old tongue through ill-fitting wooden teeth,
stained from too much opium, chipped from the years.
The feet, brown wrinkles above straw loafers.
A piece of cocoanut in a pink seashell caught the tongue and knotted into thin white strings.
Charcoal grey Eisenhower jacket zipped into a load of green ascot.
A coil of ashes collected on the white-on-yellow dacs.
Four slender bones with rings and nails endured the weight of a hard fast black rubber cigarette holder.
I could just make out Ace as he carried the tray and mouthed,
"You cheap son of a bitch" as a straw fell out of a Coke, cartwheeled into the gutter.
So this was a drive-in restaurant in Hollywood,
So this was a drive-in restaurant in Hollywood,
So this was a drive-in restaurant in Hollywood.
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