Rob Zombie - The Lunar Injection Kool Aid Eclipse Conspiracy Lyrics
Expanding the Head of Zed
(Hallelujah, hallelujah)
You will develop the mental effects
There is a rapid very complete loss of contact with reality
I'm willing to do what's right
But I don't to go through what I'm going to go through
There is a rapid loss of the body image
I'm willing to do what's right
The body's sense of time
Do what's right
The body's natural clock just ceases to function
I'm willing to do what's right
Realistically speaking, they are nothing more or less than a period of insanity
Of insanity
Of insanity
Writer: Christopher Harris, John Lowery, Rob Zombie
Copyright: Lyrics © BMG Rights Management, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
The Triumph of King Freak (A Crypt of Preservation and Superstition)
(The demon take you)
(The demon take you)
(The demon take you)
(The demon take you)
King Freak gathering the brains of hyenas
King Freak drinking blood in the arena
King Freak taste the vectors of disease
King Freak destroy you while you're on your knees
We ain't your execution (get off)
We ain't your head pollution (get off)
We ain't your flock of sheep (get off)
We ain't your minds to read, yeah
(Witchcraft, devil worship)
(Witchcraft, devil worship)
King Freak circling a legion of doom
King Freak exploding from a sonic boom
King Freak ringing your cathedral bells
King Freak calling from the mouth of hell
We ain't your execution (get off)
We ain't your head pollution (get off)
We ain't your flock of sheep (get off)
We ain't your minds to read, yeah
And the crows will dig your grave
I do not forgive, I do not save
And the crows will dig your grave
I do not forgive, I do not save
(Devil)
(Devil)
King Freak carve an X into your head
King Freak dripping deeper in the red
King Freak gathering sharks in the shallows
King Freak elevator to the gallows
Writer: John Lowery, Rob Zombie, Chris Harris
Copyright: Lyrics © BMG Rights Management, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
The Ballad of Sleazy Rider
And they can, they can tell us we're crazy
And we can say, "Well you haven't seen anything yet"
I consider them all expendable
This cult of superstars, yeah, they come and they go
The skull of the horse, a virgin with wings
The faithful always cheer as you spit on the king, yeah
Rama-lama, rama-lama-loo
Rama-lama, rama-lama-loo
My name is Sleazy Rider, man
High above the Earth in a garbage can
My name is Sleazy Rider, man
An outer space motherf*ckin' boogeyman
And I keep on rollin'
Rollin' all night long
(Everybody) and I keep on rollin'
(Yeah) rollin' all night long
Here we go again
I consider them all irrational
Suckin' off a God who wants it all
A bloated body, an aged witch
Strippin' for the camera like a son of a bitch, yeah
Rama-lama, rama-lama-loo
Rama-lama, rama-lama-loo
My name is Sleazy Rider, man
High above the Earth in a garbage can
My name is Sleazy Rider, man
An outer space motherf*ckin' boogeyman
They're orderin' their sausages and sausages
It's almost like they're sausages, that's right
We don't want you to skip no meals out here, alright?
Don't bust no water pump, alright?
Okay, that's right
Come on, my name is Sleazy Rider, man
High above the Earth in a garbage can
My name is Sleazy Rider, man
An outer space motherf*ckin' boogeyman
Because there are things that are more beautiful
Writer: Christopher Harris, John Lowery, Robert Bartleh Cummings
Copyright: Lyrics © BMG Rights Management, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Copyright: Lyrics © Original Writer and Publisher
Shadow of the Cemetery Man
Spin a turntable for the ugly ones (get it on)
Rocky mountain high in the California sun (get it on)
One is one is one is us
Hitching a ride on a black magic bus
She gotta rock and she gotta roll (get it on)
I don't give a f*ck, I ain't never growing old (get it on)
She gotta rock and she gotta roll (get it on)
I don't give a f*ck, I ain't never growing old, yeah
Alright everybody, on the count of three
Gotta let it all hang out
One, two, three, go
Dig it, sexy mama
Well, I'm a cemetery man
Dig it, sexy mama
Well, I'm a cemetery man
I've had my mind blown a long time
But in a different way, you see?
Yellow submarine said, "Jump right in" (get it on)
A self-made freak just selling you some skin now (get it on)
Mock your Christ with crowning thorns (get it on)
Praying to a demon sporting cheap plastic horns, yeah
Hate is your God so twist and shout (get it on)
Get out on the floor and work that f*cker out now (get it on)
Hate is your God so twist and shout (get it on)
Get out on the floor and work that f*cker out now
Alright everybody, on the count of three
Gotta let it all hang out
One, two, three, go
Dig it, sexy mama
Well, I'm a cemetery man
Dig it, sexy mama
Well, I'm a cemetery man
Can you see it? It's right here in front of me, right now
Watch, no
Oh good heavens, everything is so beautiful and lovely and
I've never seen such infinite beauty in my life
Take your baby over to dead man's curve
Going down, down, down if you got the nerve
Take your baby over to dead man's curve
Going down, down, down if you got the nerve now
(Dig, dig, dig, dig, dig, dig, dig, dig)
Dig it, sexy mama
Well, I'm a cemetery man
Dig it, sexy mama
Well, I'm a cemetery man
(Hahaha)
Writer: Christopher Harris, John Lowery, Rob Cummings
Copyright: Lyrics © BMG Rights Management, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Writer: Christopher Harris, John Lowery, Robert Bartleh Cummings
Copyright: Lyrics © BMG Rights Management, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
18Th Century Cannibals Excitable Morlocks and a One-Way Ticket on the Ghost Train
Well, the junkie of Mott Street slips inside
Wrangling a serpent that refuses to die
Now that's a lot of venom, he winks with pride
This ain't hell, it's a picnic
Well, come on down to the freak arcade
Where some are grown and most are made
We crush up all the weird ones into lemonade
Grab the ice handle and pick it
Get on board the ghost train
Get on board the ghost train
Now fashion magazines told Sherlock Holmes
Hey, leave a little meat on those chicken bones
And can you really daydream without Davy Jones?
Who is this Auntie Griselda?
Well, John the Dillinger said with a smile
I had a dream last night about a Gomer Pyle
Dressed in tinsel, riding a crocodile
Does this make me crazy?
Get on board the ghost train
Get on board the ghost train
Well, even Hercules freed himself with a ruse
The dragon captain displayed a Kung Fu bruise
And hide all the children and spread the news
Velvet Jesus is a poster
Well, everybody testify, get your hands up in the air
Get on board the ghost train
Get on board the ghost train
Well, everybody testify, get your hands up in the air
Get on board the ghost train
Get on board the ghost train
Writer: Chris Harris, John Lowery, Robert Bartleh Cummings
Copyright: Lyrics © BMG Rights Management
The Eternal Struggles of the Howling Man
Crop circle shaking on the bump and grind
Well, alright, alright, alright
Steam-powered zodiac blowing up your mind
Well, alright, alright, alright
The howling man
Awoo, yeah
The howling man
Awoo, yeah
"The finest machine in the world
As far as I'm concerned"
Infernal machine at the speed of light
Well, alright, alright, alright
Searching out the ghosts, yeah, on a Saturday night
Well, alright, alright, alright
The howling man
Awoo, yeah
The howling man
Awoo, yeah
Power to the people (oh yeah)
Power to the people
Power to the people (oh yeah)
Power to the people
Color me black and coffin red
Godzilla eats the dragon's head
Snake River Canyon in your bed
Knievel kicked it now he's dead
Knievel kicked it now he's dead
Knievel kicked it now he's dead
Writer: Christopher Harris, John Lowery, Rob Zombie
Copyright: Lyrics © BMG Rights Management, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Copyright: Lyrics © Original Writer and Publisher
The Satanic Rites of Blacula
Okay, let's do it
Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, hold it, hold it, hold it
More like da, da, da-da-da, da, da, da-da-da
A graveyard for lunatics
They come a-running
Leader of the young-bloods
They are a-buzzing
Absolute midnight
They come a-crying
I still remember Babylon
All is forgiven
And the rats come on home to pick your bones
This ain't the same old monster
Scream, Blacula, scream
Blacula, scream, Blacula, scream
Whoa
Beast shouted love
They come a-hunting
Crawl out of the skull
They come a-calling
Dangerous and dirty
They are a-wailing
Goodbye, Picasso
Go paint the women
And the rats come on home to pick your bones
This ain't the same old monster
Scream, Blacula, scream
Blacula, scream, Blacula, scream
Whoa
Well everybody's bleeding
Let's turn it on
Well everybody's bleeding
Let's turn it on
Spock is gonna die
Call him Messiah
The world is so hollow
He is a liar
Take me back to Vulcan
And open fire
Which way goes to Eden?
A vampire
And the rats come on home to pick your bones
This ain't the same old monster
Scream, Blacula, scream
Blacula, scream, Blacula, scream
Whoa
Writer: Christopher Harris, John Lowery, Robert Bartleh Cummings
Copyright: Lyrics © BMG Rights Management, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Copyright: Lyrics © Original Writer and Publisher
Shake Your Ass-Smoke Your Grass
Well, I don't need your Jesus freaks
Well, I don't need your thought police
Well, I don't need your saving soul
Well, I don't need your mind control
Shake your ass, your ass
Smoke your grass, your grass
Shake your ass, your ass
Smoke your grass, your grass
Well, I don't need your howling moon
Well, I don't need your happy tune
Well, I don't need your jetting set
Well, I don't need your cigarettes
Shake your ass, your ass
Smoke your grass, your grass
Shake your ass, your ass
Smoke your grass, your grass
Come on, well everybody
It's time to feel alright
Come on, well everybody
It's time to feel alright
America, its society, it devours its youth
Well, I don't want your O-J juice
Well, I don't want your Lenny Bruce
Well, I don't want your flying nun
Well, I don't want your golden gun
Shake your ass, your ass
Smoke your grass, your grass
Shake your ass, your ass
Smoke your grass, your grass
Well, I'm a mad hatter, baby, ride a boogie machine
Blastin' 8-track tapes when I'm on the scene
I'm a long-gone daddy in a boogaloo
And I stitch it all together with super glue
(Stop playing around man)
Shake your ass, your ass
Smoke your grass, your grass
Shake your ass, your ass
Smoke your grass, your grass
Come on, well everybody
It's time to feel alright
Come on, well everybody
It's time to feel alright
Writer: Christopher Harris, John Lowery, Robert Bartleh Cummings
Copyright: Lyrics © BMG Rights Management, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Boom-Boom-Boom
They call her the black cat
Oh yeah, she got the moves
They call her the raven
Oh yeah, she got the moves
They call her red death
Oh yeah, she got the moves
Boom-boom-boom, the witch is in the room
Boom-boom-boom, she's sliding up the broom
Boom-boom-boom, the witch is in the room
Boom-boom-boom, she's sliding up the broom
They call her madness
Oh yeah, she got the moves
They call her Dunwich
Oh yeah, she got the moves
They call her Lovecraft
Oh yeah, she got the moves
Boom-boom-boom, the witch is in the room
Boom-boom-boom, she's sliding up the broom
Boom-boom-boom, the witch is in the room
Boom-boom-boom, she's sliding up the broom
Writer: Christopher Harris, John Lowery, Robert Bartleh Cummings
Copyright: Lyrics © BMG Rights Management, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Writer: Chris Harris, John Lowery, Rob Zombie
Copyright: Lyrics © BMG Rights Management, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Get Loose
Get loose
You wanna f*ck a star
Get loose
I don't know who you are
Get loose
A freak in silver pants
Get loose
I know you wanna dance
Do you dream with sharpened teeth?
Give me the right stuff
Give me the right stuff
Do you question all belief?
Give me the right stuff
Give me the right stuff
Do you charm the sorcerer?
Give me the right stuff
Give me the right stuff
Do you love the murderer?
Give me the right stuff
Give me the right stuff
Get loose
Until you see some skin
Get loose
And let the wrong one in
Get loose
Until the world turns black
Get loose
I got a wolf on my back
Do you dream with sharpened teeth?
Give me the right stuff
Give me the right stuff
Do you question all belief?
Give me the right stuff
Give me the right stuff
Do you charm the sorcerer?
Give me the right stuff
Give me the right stuff
Do you love the murderer?
Give me the right stuff
Give me the right stuff
We're all dirty
So filthy
We're all dirty
Leave us alone
We're all dirty
So filthy
We're all dirty
Leave us alone
Writer: Chris Harris, John Lowery, Robert Bartleh Cummings
Copyright: Lyrics © Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Copyright: Lyrics © Original Writer and Publisher
Crow Killer Blues
(I got buried)
Apocalypse, prepare as you approach the edge
Prometheus, into the flesh you carve the pledge
Deceivers, eternal howling of your needs
Paradise, the serpent laughing as it bleeds
Darkness, judgement shall begin
Heretic topped with a skeletal grin
Blood lust, thieves and reptiles rise
Punishment, damned under blackened eyes
Burn down your institution
This is a Gonzo revolution
Well, I am the crow killer
I'm lurking in the trees
Well, I am the crow killer
I'll slit you to your knees
White witch broken from her heathen ways
Vice grip grasping 'til your final days
Celebrate, creatures dying in the weeds
Dead world charging on the devil's steed
Burn down your institution
This is a Gonzo revolution
Well, I am the crow killer
I'm lurking in the trees
Well, I am the crow killer
I'll slit you to your knees
Writer: Christopher Harris, John Lowery, Robert Bartleh Cummings
Copyright: Lyrics © BMG Rights Management, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.