frank zappa – the blue light [live at the palladium – 10/31/81 – show 1] lyrics
[verse 1]
your ethos, your pathos
your porthos, your aramis
your brut cologne
you’re writing home
you are hopeless, your hopelessness
is rising around you, rising around you
you like it
it gives you something to do
in the day time
hey buddy, you need a hobby
you are tired of moving forward
you think of the future
and secretly you piddle your pants
the puddle of piddle
which used to be little
is rising around you, rising around you
you like it
it gives you something to do
in the night time
[verse 2]
oh well, you travel to bars
you might go to max’s kansas city, but that
that’s not much fun anymore
oh, you might even go down to the mudd club
but all that’s down there anymorе is
burglars and villains and so forth
oh, where do you go and
what do you do when you’rе so lonely?
i don’t wanna wear your hat right now, thank you very much
oh, what a lovely balloon, it’s going by so nicely
well, maybe you’ll go to the library
you’ll go to an art gallery
you’ll go someplace where you can
pick up a girl that you might like
but you’re such an assh0l+
they never wanna go with you, do they?
they look at you and go
“hey, who wants to be with this putz, right?”
you’re a lonely guy
and the gilded grape is all burnt down
your life is really in trouble
and all around you theres nothing but
evangelists and republicans, oh no
you’ll go anywhere, you’ll do anything
just so you can hang out with the others
the others
just like you
afraid of the future
and i don’t blame ya
because the future is scary
(yes, it sure is)
well, the puddle is rising
it smells like the ocean
a body of water to isolate england
and also for primer
the oil in patches
all over atlantis, atlantis, atlantis
phew, atlantis
they could really get down there
the plankton, the krill
the giant underwater pyramid
the squid decor
the big ol’ giant underwater door
the dome, the bubbles, the blue light
light, light, light, light
blue light
light, light, light
blue, blue light, blue light
the seepage, the sewage, the rubbers, the napkins
your ethos, your pathos
your flag pole, your port hole
your language
you can’t even speak your own f+cking language
you can’t read it anymore
you can’t write it anymore
your language
your meat loaf
don’t let your meat loaf
heh, heh, heh
your micro+nanette
your brut
cologne
rising
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