When the going gets tough
And the stomachg acids flow
The cold wind of conformity
Is nipping at your nose
When some trendy new atrocity
Has brought you to your knees
Come with us we'll sail the
Seas of Cheese
Primus - Sailing the Seas of Cheese Album Lyrics
Primus - Sailing the Seas of Cheese Lyrics
Writer: LES CLAYPOOL
Copyright: Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., Downtown Music Publishing
Copyright: Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., Downtown Music Publishing
Here Come The Bastards
Here they come
Here come the bastards
I heard it from a confident -
Who heard it form a confidant
They're definately on their way
There's one with this idea
Something about a hammer head shark
Nosehairs and flatus
Best keep your distance because
Here they come here come the bastards
Bury your head deep in the sand
Anonyminity is a virtue in this day and age
Amazing hand dexterity
Flagrant misuse of security
Better run, run, run, run, run
Run Run Run Run, here they come.
Here come the bastards
I heard it from a confident -
Who heard it form a confidant
They're definately on their way
There's one with this idea
Something about a hammer head shark
Nosehairs and flatus
Best keep your distance because
Here they come here come the bastards
Bury your head deep in the sand
Anonyminity is a virtue in this day and age
Amazing hand dexterity
Flagrant misuse of security
Better run, run, run, run, run
Run Run Run Run, here they come.
Writer: LES CLAYPOOL, REID L. III LALONDE, TIMOTHY W. ALEXANDER
Copyright: Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., Downtown Music Publishing
Copyright: Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., Downtown Music Publishing
Sgt. Baker
Sgt. Baker is my name
I'm gonna teach you how to play the game
of warfare
Suddenly it appears to me
You got a bit much dignity
For your own good, boy
Yes sir, yes sir.
I will rape your personality
Pummel you with my own philosophy
Strip you of your self-integrity
To make you all a bit like me
I said right, left
Sgt. Baker here again
And if you calls me "puddin Tame"
I'll stomp you down, boy
Steers and Queers
Steers and Queers where you come
From there's just steers and queers
And you ain't got no horns, boy
Yes sir, yes sir
I will rape your personality
Pummel you with my own philosophy
Strip you of your self-integrity
To make you all a bit like me
I said right, left
I'm gonna teach you how to play the game
of warfare
Suddenly it appears to me
You got a bit much dignity
For your own good, boy
Yes sir, yes sir.
I will rape your personality
Pummel you with my own philosophy
Strip you of your self-integrity
To make you all a bit like me
I said right, left
Sgt. Baker here again
And if you calls me "puddin Tame"
I'll stomp you down, boy
Steers and Queers
Steers and Queers where you come
From there's just steers and queers
And you ain't got no horns, boy
Yes sir, yes sir
I will rape your personality
Pummel you with my own philosophy
Strip you of your self-integrity
To make you all a bit like me
I said right, left
Writer: LES CLAYPOOL, REID L. III LALONDE, TIMOTHY W. ALEXANDER, TODD HUTH
Copyright: Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., Downtown Music Publishing
Copyright: Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., Downtown Music Publishing
American Life
In a town in southernmost Sicily
Lived a family too proud to be poor
In the year that fever took father away
They hastened for American shores
Now a mother and her son are standing in line
It's a cold day on Ellis Isle
And they look to the Statue of Liberty
For the boy we have American life
Ong is a Laotian refugee
He works in the audio trade
The smoke from flux is filling his lungs
He's earning minimum wage
Spending spare time down on
San Pablo ave
Once a week gets a woman for the night
And he writes home tales of prosperity
For the boy we have American life
Bob is an unemployed veteran
Born and bred in the South Bronx
He's living off the streets down in east L.A.
Residing in a cardboard box
Now he plays a little guit and he has a small dog
Searching for aluminum cans
And he hold on tight to his dignity
He was born into American life
Lived a family too proud to be poor
In the year that fever took father away
They hastened for American shores
Now a mother and her son are standing in line
It's a cold day on Ellis Isle
And they look to the Statue of Liberty
For the boy we have American life
Ong is a Laotian refugee
He works in the audio trade
The smoke from flux is filling his lungs
He's earning minimum wage
Spending spare time down on
San Pablo ave
Once a week gets a woman for the night
And he writes home tales of prosperity
For the boy we have American life
Bob is an unemployed veteran
Born and bred in the South Bronx
He's living off the streets down in east L.A.
Residing in a cardboard box
Now he plays a little guit and he has a small dog
Searching for aluminum cans
And he hold on tight to his dignity
He was born into American life
Writer: LES CLAYPOOL, REID L. III LALONDE, TIMOTHY W. ALEXANDER
Copyright: Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., Downtown Music Publishing
Copyright: Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., Downtown Music Publishing
Jerry Was A Race Car Driver
Jerry was a race car driver
And he drove so goddamned fast
He never did win no checkered flag
But he never did come in last
Jerry was a race car driver
He'd say "El Sob number one"
With a bocephus sticker
On his 442 he'd light 'em up
Just for fun
Captain Pierce was a fireman
Richmond engine #3
I'll be a wealthy man when I get
A dime for all the things that
Man taught to me
Captain Pierce was a strong man
Strong as any man alive
It stuck in his craw that they
Made him retire at the age of 65
Jerry was a race car driver
22 years old
Had too many cold beers one night
And wrapped himself around a telephone pole.
And he drove so goddamned fast
He never did win no checkered flag
But he never did come in last
Jerry was a race car driver
He'd say "El Sob number one"
With a bocephus sticker
On his 442 he'd light 'em up
Just for fun
Captain Pierce was a fireman
Richmond engine #3
I'll be a wealthy man when I get
A dime for all the things that
Man taught to me
Captain Pierce was a strong man
Strong as any man alive
It stuck in his craw that they
Made him retire at the age of 65
Jerry was a race car driver
22 years old
Had too many cold beers one night
And wrapped himself around a telephone pole.
Writer: LES CLAYPOOL, REID L. III LALONDE, TIMOTHY W. ALEXANDER
Copyright: Lyrics © Warner Chappell Music, Inc., Downtown Music Publishing
Copyright: Lyrics © Warner Chappell Music, Inc., Downtown Music Publishing
Eleven
I just can't seem to blend
Into society
I have no hope for this dim
Simplicity of law and order
By whose rules I see no rhyme in
the reason
I hold no hope for this holy treason
Of love and so soft
By whose standards
They tell me, they tell me
Who are they, who is they
Into society
I have no hope for this dim
Simplicity of law and order
By whose rules I see no rhyme in
the reason
I hold no hope for this holy treason
Of love and so soft
By whose standards
They tell me, they tell me
Who are they, who is they
Writer: LES CLAYPOOL, REID L. III LALONDE, TIMOTHY W. ALEXANDER
Copyright: Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., Downtown Music Publishing
Copyright: Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., Downtown Music Publishing
Is It Luck?
My socks and shoes always match
Is it Luck?
There's a foot at the end of each of my legs
Is it Luck?I can play my bass for you
Is it Luck?Some gals like to kiss my face
Is it Luck? Is it Luck?
There was food inside your mouth today
Is it Luck?Your barber cuts your hair just so
Is it Luck?When the taste of sex is on your lips
Is it Luck? Is it Luck?
Cyanide works oh so fast
Is it Luck?Polyester makes you sweat
Is it Luck?If a graham cracker gets you off
Is it Luck
Love. Love?
Is it Luck? Is it Luck?
Is it Luck?
There's a foot at the end of each of my legs
Is it Luck?I can play my bass for you
Is it Luck?Some gals like to kiss my face
Is it Luck? Is it Luck?
There was food inside your mouth today
Is it Luck?Your barber cuts your hair just so
Is it Luck?When the taste of sex is on your lips
Is it Luck? Is it Luck?
Cyanide works oh so fast
Is it Luck?Polyester makes you sweat
Is it Luck?If a graham cracker gets you off
Is it Luck
Love. Love?
Is it Luck? Is it Luck?
Writer: LES CLAYPOOL, REID L. III LALONDE, TIMOTHY W. ALEXANDER
Copyright: Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., Downtown Music Publishing
Copyright: Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., Downtown Music Publishing
Grandads Little Ditty
As I stand in the Shower
Singing Opera and such
Pondering the possibility that I
Pull the pud too much
There's a scent that fills the air
Is it flatus? Just a touch.
And it makes me think of you.
Singing Opera and such
Pondering the possibility that I
Pull the pud too much
There's a scent that fills the air
Is it flatus? Just a touch.
And it makes me think of you.
Writer: LES CLAYPOOL
Copyright: Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., Downtown Music Publishing
Copyright: Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., Downtown Music Publishing
Tommy The Cat
"I remember as if it were a meal ago"
Said Tommy the Cat as he reeled back to clear whatever foreign matter may have nestled its way into his mighty throat.
Many a fat alley rat had met its demise while staring point blank down the cavernous barrel of this awesome prowling machine.
Truly a wonder of nature this urban predator.
Tommy the cat had many a story to tell,
But it was a rare occasion such as this that he did.
"She came slidin' down the alleyway like butter drippin' off a hot biscuit.
The aroma, the mean scent, was enough to arouse suspicion in even the oldest of Tigers that hung around the hot spot in those days.
The sight was beyond belief.
Many a head snapped for double - even triple - takes as this vivacious feline made her her way into the delta of the alleyway where the most virile of the young tabbys were known to hang out.
They hung in droves. Such a multitude of masculinity could only be found in one place...
And that was O'malley's Alley.
The air was thick with cat calls (no pun intended),
But not even a muscle in her neck did twitch as she sauntered up into the heart of the alley.
She knew what she wanted.
She was lookin' for that stud bull, the he cat.
And that was me.
Tommy the Cat is my name and I say unto thee...
"Say baby do you wanna lay down by me"
Said Tommy the Cat as he reeled back to clear whatever foreign matter may have nestled its way into his mighty throat.
Many a fat alley rat had met its demise while staring point blank down the cavernous barrel of this awesome prowling machine.
Truly a wonder of nature this urban predator.
Tommy the cat had many a story to tell,
But it was a rare occasion such as this that he did.
"She came slidin' down the alleyway like butter drippin' off a hot biscuit.
The aroma, the mean scent, was enough to arouse suspicion in even the oldest of Tigers that hung around the hot spot in those days.
The sight was beyond belief.
Many a head snapped for double - even triple - takes as this vivacious feline made her her way into the delta of the alleyway where the most virile of the young tabbys were known to hang out.
They hung in droves. Such a multitude of masculinity could only be found in one place...
And that was O'malley's Alley.
The air was thick with cat calls (no pun intended),
But not even a muscle in her neck did twitch as she sauntered up into the heart of the alley.
She knew what she wanted.
She was lookin' for that stud bull, the he cat.
And that was me.
Tommy the Cat is my name and I say unto thee...
"Say baby do you wanna lay down by me"
Writer: LES CLAYPOOL, REID L. III LALONDE, TIMOTHY W. ALEXANDER, TODD HUTH
Copyright: Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., Downtown Music Publishing
Copyright: Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., Downtown Music Publishing
Copyright: Lyrics © Original Writer and Publisher
Those Damned Blue-Collar Tweekers
I've seen them out at soco
They're pounding sixteen penny nails
The truckers on the interstate
Have been known to ride the rails
The sweat is beating on the brow
Can't keep these fellas down
'Cause those damned blue-collared tweekers
Are runnin' this here town
I knew a man who hung drywall
He hung it mighty quick
A trip or two to the blue room
Would help him do the trick
His foreman would pat him on the back
Whenever he would come around
'Cause these dammed blue-collar tweekers
Are beloved in this here town
Now the union boys are there
To protect us from all the corporate type
While curious george's drug patrol
Is out here hunting snipe
Now they try to tell me different
But you know i ain't no clown
'Cause those damned blue-collar tweekers
Are the backbone of this town
Now the flame that burns twice as bright
Burns only half as long
My eyes are growing weary
As i finalize this song
So sit back and have a cup o' joe
And watch the wheels go round
'Cause those damned blue-collar tweekers
Have always run this town
They're pounding sixteen penny nails
The truckers on the interstate
Have been known to ride the rails
The sweat is beating on the brow
Can't keep these fellas down
'Cause those damned blue-collared tweekers
Are runnin' this here town
I knew a man who hung drywall
He hung it mighty quick
A trip or two to the blue room
Would help him do the trick
His foreman would pat him on the back
Whenever he would come around
'Cause these dammed blue-collar tweekers
Are beloved in this here town
Now the union boys are there
To protect us from all the corporate type
While curious george's drug patrol
Is out here hunting snipe
Now they try to tell me different
But you know i ain't no clown
'Cause those damned blue-collar tweekers
Are the backbone of this town
Now the flame that burns twice as bright
Burns only half as long
My eyes are growing weary
As i finalize this song
So sit back and have a cup o' joe
And watch the wheels go round
'Cause those damned blue-collar tweekers
Have always run this town
Writer: LES CLAYPOOL, REID L. III LALONDE, TIMOTHY W. ALEXANDER
Copyright: Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., Downtown Music Publishing
Copyright: Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., Downtown Music Publishing
Fish On (Fisherman Chronicles, Chapter II)
Felt a pang late one afternoon
I was fishin' off Muir beach
With Larry LaLonde
I grabbed a tuna salad sandwich
And I started to chew
Pretty soon Ler's yellin
Fish on
Fish on
I was just a little pup
And it was derby day
It was dad and me and Darrell
Out in San Pablo Bay
Taco-flavored Doritos
And my orange life vest
Dad caught a hundred pound sturgeon
On twenty-pound test
Now, he fought that fish for 'bout an hour and a half
Darrell'd say, "Jump, you sons a bitch!"
And he grabbed for the gaff
When we got him in the boat
He measured six feet long
I was so danged impressed
I had to write this song called
Fish on
Fish on
Fish on
Fish on
It was a bright sunny day
It was me and Todd Huth
Fishin' shark and stingray
Out of Bolinas Lagoon
Well, hey, hey, hey
I'll be screwed blued and tattooed
Looks like I got me one of them
Fish on
Fish on
Fish on
Fish on
Fish on
Fish on
Fish on
Fish on
Fish on
I was fishin' off Muir beach
With Larry LaLonde
I grabbed a tuna salad sandwich
And I started to chew
Pretty soon Ler's yellin
Fish on
Fish on
I was just a little pup
And it was derby day
It was dad and me and Darrell
Out in San Pablo Bay
Taco-flavored Doritos
And my orange life vest
Dad caught a hundred pound sturgeon
On twenty-pound test
Now, he fought that fish for 'bout an hour and a half
Darrell'd say, "Jump, you sons a bitch!"
And he grabbed for the gaff
When we got him in the boat
He measured six feet long
I was so danged impressed
I had to write this song called
Fish on
Fish on
Fish on
Fish on
It was a bright sunny day
It was me and Todd Huth
Fishin' shark and stingray
Out of Bolinas Lagoon
Well, hey, hey, hey
I'll be screwed blued and tattooed
Looks like I got me one of them
Fish on
Fish on
Fish on
Fish on
Fish on
Fish on
Fish on
Fish on
Fish on
Writer: Les Claypool, Reid L Lalonde III, Timothy W Alexander
Copyright: Lyrics © Downtown Music Publishing
Copyright: Lyrics © Downtown Music Publishing
Writer: LES CLAYPOOL, REID L. III LALONDE, TIMOTHY W. ALEXANDER
Copyright: Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., Downtown Music Publishing
Copyright: Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., Downtown Music Publishing
Sailing the Seas of Cheese is the second studio album and major label debut by the American rock band Primus. It was released on May 14, 1991, through Interscope Records. It spawned three singles: "Jerry Was a Race Car Driver", "Tommy the Cat", and "Those Damned Blue-Collar Tweekers".
Performed By:
PrimusGenre(s): Funk metal
Producer(s): Primus
Length: 45:40
Released: May 14th, 1991
Year: 1991