Cake - Motorcade of Generosity Lyrics
Comanche
You need to straighten your posture and suck in your gut
You need to pull back your shoulders and tighten your butt
Yeah, come Comanche, Comanche, Comanche commode
If you want to have cities you've got to build roads
You need to find some new feathers and buy some new clothes
Just get rid of the antlers and lighten your load
Yeah, come Comanche, Comanche, Comanche, commode
Yeah, if you want to have cities, you've got to build roads
You need to straighten your posture and suck in your gut
You need to pull back your shoulders and tighten your butt
Yeah, come Comanche, Comanche, Comanche, commode
Ah, if you want to have cities
Yeah, if you want to have cities
No, if you want to have cities
You've got to build roads
Writer: John M McCrea
Copyright: Lyrics © Wixen Music Publishing
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Ruby Sees All
Do you think she's swimming in your lies?
Do you think it's all just murky green?
Don't you think that she would realize?
Yeah, do you think that she has never seen?
'Cause when the seaweed sinks
And the sun gets low
When the waves retire
To the darkness below
I know, I know Ruby sees all
Whoa, I know
I know Ruby sees
I can feel the pressure building high
You should see you're headed for a storm
Don't you see it building in the sky?
Don't you think it's time to swim to shore?
'Cause when the seaweed sinks
And the sun gets low
When the waves retire
To the darkness below
I know, I know Ruby sees all
Whoa, I know
I know Ruby sees
Writer: John M McCrea
Copyright: Lyrics © Wixen Music Publishing
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Up So Close
Up so close I never get to see your face.
Microscope I might as well be out in space.
Up so close I never get to see the view.
Down your throat I'm never sure if it's still you.
Up your nose down to your toes.
In your mouth way down south.
Up so close it seems I only think of you.
Up so close I never see the sky so blue.
I only wanted to be sure
That what it was was really pure.
I put my face down in the cake.
My feet were flailing in a lake.
Up so close, I never get to see your face.
Microscope, I might as well be out in space.
Up so close, I never get to see you.
Microscope, I'm never sure if it's still you.
Writer: John M McCrea
Copyright: Lyrics © Wixen Music Publishing
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Pentagram
Your pentagram is down below our floor.
Your naked body shimmers in the night.
Dancing and chanting in a sacrificial rite.
Your feet are dry with the ashes from dead babies
Who have passed the test just like all the rest
But never really understood the reasons why
They took it in the first place.
Ah in the first place.
Your feisty eyes won't make me fall apart.
Your turquoise and silver won't weaken this old heart.
Yeah, dancing and chanting in a sacrificial rite.
I fell to the ground on a windy, windy night.
Well I have passed the test just like all the rest,
But never really understood the reasons why
I took it in the first place.
Ah, in the first place.
Well I have passed the test just like all the rest,
But never really understood the reasons why
I took it in the first place.
Ah, in the first place.
Writer: John M Mccrea
Copyright: Lyrics © Wixen Music Publishing
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Jolene
Well Jolene unlocked the thick, breezeway door,
Like she'd done one hundred times before.
Jolene smoothed her dark hair in the mirror.
She folded the towel carefully and put it back in place.
Yeah I want to pull you down into bed.
I want to cast your face in lead.
Well every time I pull you close,
Push my face into your hair,
Cream rinse and tobacco smoke,
That sickly scent is always, always there.
Jolene heard her father's uneven snores.
Right then she knew there must be something more.
Jolene heard the singing in the forest.
She opened the door quietly and stepped into the night.
Yeah I want to throw you out into space.
I want to do whatever it takes, takes, takes.
Well every time I pull you close,
Push my face into your hair,
Cream rinse and tobacco smoke,
That sickly scent is always, always there.
Copyright: Lyrics © Original Writer and Publisher
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Haze Of Love
It's three o'clock in the morning
Or maybe it's four
I am thinking of you
Wondering what I should do
But I'm finally cutting through this haze
It's four o'clock in the morning
Or maybe it's five
I think I'm alive
And I think I'll survive
I'm finally cutting through this haze of love
Haze of love
For days and days and days
I'm in a haze of love
Yeah you don't love me like I love you
All though you pretend
I can see this will end
I'm finally cutting through this haze of love
Haze of love
For days and days and days
I'm in a haze of love
It's five o'clock in the morning
Or maybe it's six
I am sick of your lies
I am sick of your tricks
I'm finally cutting through this haze of love
Haze of love
For days and days and days
For days and days and days
For days and days and days
I'm in a haze of love
Writer: John M McCrea
Copyright: Lyrics © Wixen Music Publishing
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You Part The Waters
You part the waters
The same ones that I'm drowning in
You lead your casual slaughters
And I'm the one who helps you win
You've got your grand piano
You don't even play piano
I'm the one who plays piano
You don't even play piano
You part the waters
The same ones that I'm thirsty for
You invite your friends to tea
But when it's me you lock the door
You've got your credit cards
And you thank your lucky stars.
But don't forget the ones who foot the bill
You've got your grand piano
And you don't even play piano
I'm the one who plays piano
You don't even play piano
But you part the waters
Writer: Gregory P Brown, John M Mccrea
Copyright: Lyrics © Wixen Music Publishing
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Is This Love?
I can't believe it's true, I can't believe that you
Don't want me anymore
You're with him and you don't even know
That I've been dying all day long
And singing sad, sad songs
And wishing you were gone
Ha, is this love?
Oh, is this love?
Is this love?
Or should I close the door?
Yea, my eyes are burning in my head
And seeing only red
And wishing you were dead
Is this love?
Oh, is this love?
Is this love?
Oh, no is this love? I don't thing so
Is this love?
Or should I
Or should I, should I
Should I close the door?
Should I close the door? Aah, I fooled myself
Yea, alright, okay
Is this love? Tell me
Is this love? I don't thing so
(Is this love?)
Is this love?
Oh, no is this love?
Is this love?
Or should I
Or should I
Or should I, should I
Should I close the door?
Writer: Gregory P Brown, John M Mccrea
Copyright: Lyrics © Wixen Music Publishing, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
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Jesus Wrote A Blank Check
Jesus wrote a blank check,
One I haven't cashed quite yet.
I hope I've got a little more time.
I hope it's not the end of the line.
Yeah, Jesus wrote a blank check.
One I haven't cashed yet, all right.
But if I had to choose a number,
I'd want it to be number one.
I don't want to be number two.
Yeah, I don't want to be number four.
But I can hear a knock on the door.
Jesus wrote a blank check, all right.
If Jesus saw me dying,
Would angels come a flying down?
I hope I've got a little more time.
I hope somebody lends me a dime.
Now, Jesus wrote a blank check.
Ah, one I haven't cashed yet.
Still I build my towers high.
I watch them pierce the blue, blue sky.
Still I wallow in the mire.
Still I burn this earthen fire.
Still I build my towers high.
I watch them pierce the blue, blue sky.
Still I wallow in the mire.
Still I burn this earthen fire.
Still I burn this earthen fire.
Still I burn this earthen fire.
Still I burn this earthen fire.
Still I burn this earthen fire.
Still I burn this earthen fire.
Still I burn this earthen fire.
Still I burn this earthen fire.
Copyright: Lyrics © Original Writer and Publisher
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Rock n Roll Lifestyle
Well, your CD collection looks shiny and costly.
How much did you pay for your bad Moto Guzi?
And how much did you spend on your black leather jacket?
Is it you or your parents in this income tax bracket?
Now tickets to concerts and drinking at clubs,
Sometimes for music that you haven't even heard of.
And how much did you pay for your rock'n'roll t-shirt
That proves you were there,
That you heard of them first?
How do you afford your rock'n'roll lifestyle?
How do you afford your rock'n'roll lifestyle?
How do you afford your rock'n'roll lifestyle?
Ah, tell me.
How much did you pay for the chunk of his guitar,
The one he ruthlessly smashed at the end of the show?
And how much will he pay for a brand new guitar,
One which he'll ruthlessly smash at the end of another show?
And how long will the workers keep building him new ones?
As long as their soda cans are red, white, and blue ones.
And how long will the workers keep building him new ones?
As long as their soda cans are red, white, and blue ones.
Aging black leather and hospital bills,
Tattoo removal and dozens of pills.
Your liver pays dearly now for youthful magic moments,
But rock on completely with some brand new components.
How do you afford your rock'n'roll lifestyle?
How do you afford your rock'n'roll lifestyle?
How do you afford your rock'n'roll lifestyle?
Excess ain't rebellion.
You're drinking what they're selling.
Your self-destruction doesn't hurt them.
Your chaos won't convert them.
They're so happy to rebuild it.
You'll never really kill it.
Yeah, excess ain't rebellion.
You're drinking what they're selling.
Excess ain't rebellion.
You're drinking,
You're drinking,
You're drinking what they're selling.
Writer: JOHN MCCREA
Copyright: Lyrics © Stamen Music
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I Bombed Korea
I bombed Korea every night.
My engine sang into the salty sky.
I didn't know if I would live or die.
I bombed Korea every night.
I bombed Korea every night.
I bombed Korea every night.
Red flowers bursting down below us.
Those people didn't even know us.
We didn't know if we would live or die.
We didn't know if it was wrong or right.
I bombed Korea every night.
And so I sit here at this bar.
I'm not a hero.
I'm not a movie star.
I've got my beer.
I've got my stories to tell,
But they won't tell you what it's like in hell.
Red flowers bursting down below us.
Those people didn't even know us.
We didn't know if we would live or die.
We didn't know if it was wrong or right.
We didn't know if we would live or die.
I bombed Korea every night.
Writer: John M Mccrea
Copyright: Lyrics © Wixen Music Publishing
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Mr. Mastodon Farm
Birds fall from the window ledge above mine
Then they flap their wings at the last second
You see, birds fall from the window ledge above mine
Then they flap their wings at the last second
I can see their dead weight
Just dropping like stones
Or small loaves of bread
Past my window all the time
But unless I get up
Walk across the room
And peer down below
I don't see their last-second curves
Toward a horizontal flight
All these birds just falling from the ledge like stones
Now due to a construct in my mind
That makes their falling and their flight
Symbolic of my entire existence
It becomes important for me
To get up and see
Their last-second curves toward flight
It's almost as if my life would fall
Unless I see their ascent
Mr. Mastodon Farm
Mr. Mastodon Farm
Cuts swatches out of all material
Mr. Mastodon Farm
Mr. Mastodon Farm
Cuts swatches out of all material
Copyright: Lyrics © Original Writer and Publisher
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Aint No Good
She's gonna hand you a red headed Gabriel
Coming from the bar in a plastic tie
He's gonna swing from the Tree of Life
He's gonna try to sell you on a great big lie
But when you speak to her
Her eyes light up
The music spills right into your cup
The minstrels play and the waitress brings ice
There are pies on a carousel
Have a slice
But watch out
She ain't no good for you
He's gonna spin like the tractor pull
She'll sit back when he tells his tale
He's gonna yell when he drinks his beer
She'll sit back and drink ginger ale
But when you speak to her
Her eyes light up
The music spills right into your cup
It's so abrupt and it's so concise
There are pies on a carousel
Have a slice
But watch out
She ain't no good for you
I say watch out
She ain't no good for you
She'd like to put you in her zoo
Right between the canaries and the cockatoos
She'll pull out your feathers
For her brand new hat
And when she's done that
She'll feed you to her cat
So watch out
She ain't no good for you
Watch out
She ain't no good for you
Watch out
She ain't no good for you
Writer: John McCrea
Copyright: Lyrics © Wixen Music Publishing
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