captain beefheart electricity

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BEATLE BONES AND SMOKIN' STONES
album lyrics

 flits

ICE CREAM FOR CROW
study the discography


SIDE ONE
 
ICE CREAM FOR CROW
it's so hot
looks like you have three beaks, crow
the moon's so full
white hat on a pumpkin
you know there's something
the moon was a stone's throw
stop the show
i need to say hello to the crow
light the fire piano
the moon showed up
and it started to show
tonight there would be ice cream
ice cream for crow
ice cream by night
sun cream by day
[repeat of last three sentences]
the sun ain't stable
ice cream for crow
crow pants the scarecrow
crow dance ah ho ho
crow dance a panther
scarecrow you answer
you can hee and haw
laugh and scratch
ha ha ha [2x]
boss and toss
don't shake my hand
give me your claw
two tears in a haystack
scarecrow get back
tonight there will be
a feather treatment
beneath the symbol
we'll all assemble
oh how we'll fly
oh how we'll tremble
cut the cake
we'll all get well
turn up the speakers
hop flop squawk
it's a keeper
ice cream for show
oh ice cream for crow
now now that's it
now you can go


***


THE HOST THE GHOST THE MOST HOLY-O
why, not even a rustler would have anything to do
with this branded bum steer world
this pirate flag headlong disaster course vessel
misguided charted this nautical numbskull hull
sink in silence smoke - blow your chest out in hope
sits spread-eagle on poor men
piled high on thruth mountain - last peak in clarity's chain
you'll not be thrown but dive and sink
your pockets filled with earthly burdens
when they could be filled with light and back with wings
the sky is dark in day-times
and still the blackbirds beauty lyrics clean
sing you brothers and end this miserable thing
and brush the dark sky in light
and let the moon bell crack and ring
upon the mast of mercy
for she is a beautiful thing
i watched her cut with clarity
the sea of satan's red rolling hatred waters
that stung my eyes with vile, vile brine
and clung the vine that took mary's only son
god in vain to slaughter
i can't darken your dark cross door no more
the light lovely one with the nothing door
and oh that pours life water
this is a toast to the ghost the host
this is a toast to the most holy-ous ghost
this is a toast to the ghost, the most holy-o
this is a toast to the ghost, the host

***
 

SEMI-MULTICOLOURED CAUCASIAN
an instrumental, so no lyrics

***


HEY GARLAND, I DIG YOUR TWEED COAT

    hey garland, i dig your tweed coat
    i'll trade you a domino this size
    mothballs scented
    the woman silk nude tie
    painting his chest
    one celluloid stay, exposed through his nibbled collar
    feet speckled the sidewalk
    faces gurgled through windows
    passing cars gum rubber streaks
    neon plants swim like green seaweed to a deep rhythm of blues
    red thyroid sunsets
    flame and speckled chemistry
    pipes run off dark tubes
    erase into marks that pour the dye of darkness
    crystal comes together as silent as ink
    i don't think i could let it go, i got it at the religious scene
    teeth let go
    tobacco juice
    an oiled balloon
    brown eye in an egg whit
    black tar bubbles in stripes
    a straw hat squeaked on the brim of a feather
    newsprint thumbed through nicotine fingers
    a dark olive was turned on
    its small pulp speaker, burst into a scream
    one large tomato was immediately peeled skin red
    it bled into a red 'o' and smacked behind accepted fangs
    quick eyebrows danced cutely above a mole
    the front was smooth
    it gradually gathered and wrinkled at the holes
    a dark wooden moustache deposited below above chinese red varnished lips
    that dented slightly into the evening
    'it's gotten quite cold - i've decided i can't sell you my coat'
    honking the wind puffed into the clumps above the lattice rows
    and out looked panatella
    naked and not ashamed
    without no clothes wiggle pig went snout first into a tree
    the rubber turkey was gobbled up by night's dark rubber mouth
    a white phosphorous raindrop dropped in the sky
    hot silhouettes in a convertible
    gave this a applause
    and several white porcelain trays were rolled in by bumble bees
    their wings arranged with pictures out of the past
    and the rainbow baboon gobbled fifteen fisheyes with each spoon
    pockets was caught at window level
    approaching the fractured glass dripping in light he spoke
    i just looked at myself
    and from here to there it ain't far enough
    but from here to there
    it's too short
    and circles don't fly, they float
    pena exclaimed
    and went on to say
    'sun shore did shine this year
    who'd you look like underneath?'
originally a 1970 poem


***
 

EVENING BELL
an instrumental, so no lyrics


***


CARDBOARD CUTOUT SUNDOWN
you hardly know a day goes by
in the cardboard cutout sundown
the moon popped up like a gallery duck
sipped up gold from the sunny cup
and longhorns sawed the buggy grass
and a cowboy blew a harp sitting on his chapped ass
and the prairie flowers didn't look a bit queer
and the stars struck the sand cartwheeled
and poked in the prairie
a cactus juice stand the only place the crows couldn't land
the bluebottle flies were as big as a cowboy's eyes
and their buzz was as loud as rattlers
a fire engine red whistle blows raspberries
in a cloud of whipped steam
a tungle weed ran out black patent yarn stinkbug hoops
from above a living mail thriving dot
in perfect sympathy with the cardboard cutout sundown
you hardly know a day goes by
in the cardboard cutout sundown


***

streep


SIDE TWO

THE PAST SURE IS TENSE
the past sure is tense
they're heading up for the main event
all those people seem to be hell-bent
see those people up on top of the fence
and the man down there
selling knotholes through the fence
oh the little shoe generation man
i found your print on a dollar bill
i found your print on an indian mound
i found your print on the statue at the sound
i found your print on the elephant ground
i found your print in the beautiful mountains
the grass no longer grew around
i found your print in my mind
the past sure is tense [2x]
  no you got the wrong idea
no you got the wrong intent
the carpenter carpenterized my vent
the only peephole
where is my dent?
the past sure is tense [2x]
  well oh oh ooh
the past sure is now, i don't see how
see those people that used to throw those tents
you can't see them now: they're in past tense
[repeating of parts]


***


INK MATHEMATICS

ink mathematics
grey mass ecstatics
noggin elastics
cerebral tactics
cranium classics
brainium domics
denizen omics
grey massmatistics
quantum puree
it's plain to feel
hard to see
fission antics
abombastics
death antiques
wrong deductions
poor instructions
mass destructions
peace antiques
singing ink mathematics
hop along with me
ink mathematics
moon to a flea
ink mathematics
i breathe black and white
day and night
grey gymnastics
ink matheratics
mathfantastics
ink mathematics
moon to a flea
ink mathmatistics
hop along with me
ink mathematics
moon to a flea


***

 
THE WITCH DOCTOR LIFE

when the witch doctor life throws his silent bones
some are crowned kings while others lose their thrones
when the witch doctor life throws his silent bones
small 'o' mouths scream and run to mama kangaroo
insecure pouches wherein hide beggars and drones
and babies and bums and buzzards
mama crouches and smiles her old useful smile
and ego roars, laughs yesterday's gasses
while children and angels gasp
and follow a shepherd on crutches

when the witch doctor life throws his silent bones
some flee the dream, some turn to stone
and the children sing and the heavens ring
worn by the shepherd with the folded wings
and the bones that sing of silence
[repeating of parts]


***

 
"81" POOP HATCH spoken words

my eyes are burnt and bleeding and all that looks like a monkey on a silver bar... big poop hatch with a cotton hatch, hatch holes that the light shows in and the light shows out... and the little red fence... and the wire and the wood... and the barbs and the berries... the tires and the bottles and the car-upon-rims... and the heat swims on its fenders, and the dust collects, and the rust of autumn surrenders into gold... trumpet poop on the ground with peanuts, its bell was blocking an ant's vision... and the mice played in its air holes and valves... a ladybug crawled off its mouthpiece standing out red and blacked its wings and blew off to a flower... its hum heard just above the ground... black dots were hung in what turned out to be an olive tree that originally held a tree house full of a building with one small window... birds and broken glass and tiny bits of newspaper... 'my sun is free from my window,' said the god the green dabbers... rice wires mouse tins and milk muffins... cereal and stone... matches and masks and mace and clubs... and splintered shaft light intrigues a cricket on a dust jeweled penlet... cobwebs collect down plaster run into a hole and find collected glass that drinks the reflection of midday afternoon midway between telegraph lines... a silver wing - a cloud - a rumbling of a cloud... a crowd of various violins strum from next door through my wall into my ear obviously artificial... neighbors laugh through sandwiches... harlem babies, their stomachs explode into roars... their eyes shiny with starvation... spreckled hula dance on my phonograph... my door rattles windy... sand wears my rug shoe and taps on the unheard finish of an hourglass i cannot hear... a typical musician's nest of thoughts filtered through dust speakers... 'why don't you go home? oh blobby, are you great,' exclaims two lips in some jumbled rock and roll tune and wears a spot i cannot scratch... the surface of a friend... this high bookafriend laid on me... on the couch relaxing in the corner behind a still life pond with plenty of bugs and lily pads slurred in mud banks and boulders tin cans and raisins warped by thought... strain on the spoon like a wheat check - check bif - cotton popping out of his sleeve... poop hatch open, big poop hatch with a cotton hatch - hatch holes - got to pick up the horns... but the head won't move until it walks

originally a track from the unreleased album bat chain puller (1976)
 

***

 
THE THOUSANDTH AND TENTH DAY OF THE HUMAN TOTEM POLE

the thousandth and tenth day of the human totem pole
the morning was distemper grey
of the thousandth and tenth day of the human totem pole
the man at the bottom was smiling
he had just finished his breakfast smiling
it hadn't rained or manured for over two hours
the man at the top was starving
the pole was a horrible looking thing
with all of those eyes and ears
and waving hands for balance
there was no way to get a [heli]copter in close
so everybody was starving together
the man at the top had long ago given up
but didn't have nerve enough to climb down
at night the pole would talk to itself
and the chatter wasn't too good
obviously the pole didn't like itself
it wanted to walk
it was the summer and it was hot
and balance wouldn't permit
a skinning to undergarments
it was an integrated pole
it was taking on a reddish brown cast
exercise on the pole was isometric
kind of a flex and then balance
then the eyes would roll together
the ears wiggle, hands balance
there was a gurgling and googling heard
a tenth of the way up the pole
approaching was a small child
with a statue of liberty doll

originally a track from the unreleased album bat chain puller (1976)

***

 
SKELETON MAKES GOOD

there's so many things to feel and see while you're awake
they're just out of reach, out of grasp, yeah out of reach
and just as many, maybe more, the minute that you sleep
so i got to throw my preach
skeleton breath, scorpion blush
i have a crush on your skeleton
watch out, unsuspecting stranger
you'll fall off the log, headfirst into dreams, end up screaming
this will comb the wolf and that will comb the fog
what will peen the rain what will preen the hog
oh you mean earth and hell over you
and laugh at your tire tracks if you get up
skeleton makes good


***


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flits captain beefheart electricity
as felt by teejo

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