California, a prophet on the burning shore
California, I’ll be knocking on the golden door
Like an angel standing in a shaft of light
Rising up to paradise, I know I’m gonna shine
California tumbles into the sea
That’ll be the day I go back to Annandale
Tried to warn you about Gino and Daddy G
But I can’t seem to get to you through the US mail
Well I hear the whistle but I can’t go
I’m gonna take her down to Mexico
And I’ve got such a long way to go
To make it to the border of Mexico
So I ride like the wind, ride like the wind
Ride like the wind
But thanks Uncle Charlie
For your Mexican smoke
You’re a legend Owsley
For your righteous dope
Fat Charlie the Archangel sloped into the room
He said, “I have no opinion about this
And I have no opinion about that”
Sad as a lonely little wrinkled balloon
He said, “Well I don’t claim to be happy about this, boys
And I don’t seem to be happy about that”
The world’s a nicer place in my beautiful balloon
It wears a nicer face in my beautiful balloon
We can sing a song and sail along the silver sky
For we can fly (we can fly)
Up, up and away
My beautiful, my beautiful balloon
Was on a sunny afternoon
Folks were drinkin’ tea with a pleasant view
Oh, you could hear them talk and laugh
'Neath a giant ball of explosive gas
Then, Ooh, the wind it beat
A tune upon that great balloon
The captain’s lost control
He says, “We’re all doomed”
On the Hindenburg
Save me, save me, save me from this squeeze
I got a big fat mama try’na break me
And I love to live so pleasantly
Live this life of luxury
Lazin’ on a sunny afternoon
She is a five foot six and two fifteen
A bleached-blonde mama with a streak of mean
She knew how to knuckle
And she knew how to scuffle and fight
And the roller derby program said
That she were built like a 'fridgerator with a head
The fans called her “Tuffy”
But all her buddies called her “Spike”
Jo would you love to scrapple
She’ll never say no, no
Shine up the battle apple
We’ll shake 'em all down tonight
We’re gonna mix in the streets
Strike at the stroke of midnight
Dance on the bones til the girls say when
Pick up what’s left by daylight
When Josie comes home
Don’t give us none of your aggravation
We had it with your discipline
Saturday night’s alright for fighting
Get a little action in
Down at Dino’s Bar’n’Grill
The drink will flow and blood will spill
And if the boys wanna fight, you better let ‘em
That jukebox in the corner blastin’ out my favorite song
The nights are getting longer, it won’t be long
Won’t be long 'til summer comes
Now that the boys are here again
I’m wiser for the time
I row against the tide
I drop to my knees
All to that good century
We’ll be wiser when we fall
Like the dinosaurs before
When we’ve swept ourselves away
A better sense can start again
Sleep comes like a drug
In God’s country
Sad eyes, crooked crosses
In Gods country, yeah
Yeah, the butler did it again, he got me once more
He had me out there drinking til half-past three or four or more
Telling stories, singing songs, drinking beer and wine
Yeah, the butler did it again, another perfect drinking crime
Miss Otis regrets she’s unable to lunch today, Madam.
Miss Otis regrets she’s unable to lunch today.
She is sorry to be delayed,
But last evening down in Lover’s Lane she strayed.
Madam.
Miss Otis regrets she’s unable to lunch today.
Last spring they called you the Hyacinth Girl
We laughed and left no regrets
The seasons have blown out all yesterday’s curls
And now it’s time to forget
December’s girl stares alone at the world
Her face pressed against the panes
She’s watching the children play out in the snow
Her eyes can see only flames
Ten silver saxes, a bass with a bow
The drummer relaxes and waits between shows
For his cinnamon girl
A dreamer of pictures, I run in the night
You see us together, chasing the moonlight
My cinnamon girl
I just took a ride in a Silver Machine
And I’m still feeling mean
Do you want to ride
See yourself going by
Other side of the sky
Well I got a silver machine
I’ve got an orgone accumulator
And it makes me feel greater
I’ll see you sometime later
When I’m through with my accumulator
It’s no social integrator
It’s a one man isolator
It’s a back brain stimulator
It’s a cerebral vibrator
Of orgones
Severe orgones