Frank Zappa

[includes The Evil Prince]
[Basic track:
Record Plant, LA
Probably c. May-June, 1976
FZ guitar, bass, keyboards, vocal, director of recreational activities
+
Chad Wackerman drums]
Thing-Fish:
Now, dis nasty sucker is de respondable party fo de en-whiffment o de origumal potium. Through de magik o stage-kraff, we be able to see him at woik!
He now be preparin some ugly shit to make yo life even mo mizzable den it awready are, since dis batch be resigned to render him IMMORTAL! We does not know if it gwine woik yet, but we kin always hope fo de best!
(singing)
Flies all green n buzznin
In his dunjing of despair
Prisoners grummle an piss dey clothes
N scratch dey matted hair
A tiny light fum a window-hole
A hunnit yards away
Is all dey ever gets tknow
Bouts de regluh life in de day
An it stink so bad, de stones been chokin
N weepin greenish drops
In de room where de giant fowah-puffer woikin,
N de torchum never stops
De torchum never stops
De torchum,
De torchum,
De torchum never stops
(Go on, DEWLLA! Play dat lil guitar one mo gin!)
(spoken)
Uh-oh! I smells trubba! He be messin wit pigmeat heahhh! Muthafucker be rejectin some CO-LOG- NUH directly into de DUO-DEENUM of de unsuspecting victim! Now he gone see if he immune to it by eatin a dab hisseff!
(singing)
Flies all green an buzznin
In his dunjing of despair
An EVIL PRINCE eats a steamin pig
In a chamber, right near dere
He eat de snouts an de trotters foist!
De loins an de groins id soon re-spersed
His carvin style id well re-hoist
He stan n shout:
All main be coist!
All main be coist!
All main be coist!
All main be coist!
An dis-ergree? Well, no one durst . . .
He de best, of cose, of all de woist
Some wrong been done, he done it foist . . .
An he stink so bad, his bones been chokin
And weepin greenish drops,
In de vat of GALOOT CO-LOG-NUH,
Where de Re-zease be berlin up
Berlin an uh boilin up
CO-LOG-NUH!
CO-LOG-NUH!
GALOOT CO-LOG-UH-NUH!
(spoken)
Oh! Do yoseff a favum n DONT USE IT! Oooooooh! Look at THESE ugly suckers! Boy, when white folks come back fum bein dead, they sho gets scary-lookin! But dont take their appearance too seriously, people, cause dey say dis de sort o folks dat belongs on BROADWAY!
Evil Prince:
(singing)
Somewhere, over there, I can tell,
Theres a voice of
A potato-headed whatchamacallit
Who does not wish me well!
His clothes are quite stupid,
And also his shoes!
Hes got a big ol duck-mouth!
(Who knows how he chews!)
He thinks he knows something
About THE GREAT PLAN!
How ULTIMATE BLANDNESS
Must RULE and COMMAND
He knows not a drop,
Not a crumb,
Not a whit,
Of the reason for doing
This criminal shit
And then, if he did,
Would it matter a bit?
Not at all!
Because IT IS WRIT:
Our BEIGE-BLANDISH GOD
Tends to CERTIFY IT:
"Only the boring and bland shall survive!
Only the lamest of lameness will thrive!"
Take it or leave it, you wont be alive,
If you are overtly CREATIVE!
Fairies and faggots and queers are
CREATIVE
All the best music on Broadway is
NATIVE
Who will step forward
And end all this trouble?
For beige-blandish citizens,
Clutching the rubble
Of vanishing dreams
Of wimpish amusement,
Replaced by a rash
Of CREATIVE confusement!
Soon, my brave Zombies,
Youll make your return!
Broadway will glow!
Broadway will burn!
(Along with the remnants of
EVERYTHING NEW)
My HOLY DISEASE will do
Wonders for you!
Those lovely producers
Who paid for you then
Will do it again, and again, and again!
The spying potato
With horrible diction
Will rot in the garbage
When this shows eviction
Takes place shortly after
My alternate skill
Of THEATRICAL SABOTAGE
Triumphs YOUR will!
Ive a special review
Ive been saving for years
For a show just like this,
With POTATOES and QUEERS
Ill say its disgusting, atrocious, and dull
Ill say it makes boils inside of your skull
Ill say its the worst-of-the-worst of the year,
No wind down the plain, and its hard on your ear
Ill say its the work of an infantile mind
Ill say that its tasteless, and that you will find
A better excuse to spend money or time
At a Tupper-Ware Party,
So, do be a smarty!
Hold on to that dollar
A little while longer
For spending it here,
Why, it couldnt be wronger!
WHATS HAPPENED TO BROADWAY?
WHERES IT GONE, ALL THE GLITTER?
THE HEART AND THE SOUL
THE PATTER?
THE PITTER?
And after this deadly review hits the paper,
In will come ROPER, BENDER & RAPER,
To legally execute all that remains
Of this tragic amusement for drug-addled brains
Thing-Fish:
(singing)
Flies all green an buzznin
In his dunjing of despair
Who are all o dem ZOMBIES
Dat he fuckin wit down dere?
Are dey crazy?
Are dey sainted?
Are dey STAGE-KRAFF someone painted?
It have never been explained,
Since at first it were created,
But, a MUSICAL, like wes in,
Require a WHOLE BUNCH O EVERYTHIN!
We talkin EVERYTHIN DAT EVER BEEN!
Look at her!
Look at him!
Dat what de deal we dealing in
Dat what de deal we dealing in
Dat what de deal we dealing in
Dat what de deal we dealing in
[ The torchum Never Stops Lyrics ]