Primus Album

[No lyrics]

yeah
yeah

i am the plan
i am the man
who tells you what, and when you can
i am the old one that torments you
i am the voice that tells you too

(chorus)
don't get caught with you fingers in my pie
mess with me and boy you're surely gunna die
if ever your in doubt
about who or where i am
i'm here, i'm there, i'm everywhere
i am your uncle sam
electric uncle sam

you beg me please
on bended knees
not to sit amoung the enemies
if you feel like, you wanna dance
then step aside and take a chance

(chorus)

yeah
i am you're uncle sam
yeah
i am you're uncle sam
yeah
electric uncle sam

There's a boy out 'luma way
Named Joe Eugene
He's one mellow-ass son of a bitch-a

He loves his wheat grass
And cold bean curd
He's one healthy-ass son of a bitch-a

But late at night
He sneaks on down to the liquor store
for a bottle of sheep dip

Natural Joe
Got an easy flow
Wherever he goes
They say, "Here comes Joe"

Joe, he's a happy man
And he won't do you wrong
He's one respectable son of a bitch-a

Now Joe ain't no patriarch
But he's smooth with the girls
He ain't no chauvinistic son of a bitch-a

But late at night
He sneaks on down to the porno store
for a little bit of...

Nature Joe
He's hanging low
Wherever he goes
They say, "Here comes Joe"

There's a boy out 'luma way
Named Joe Eugene
He's one mellow-ass son of a bitch-a

He don't like firearms
He don't own knives
He's one pacifistic son of a bitch-a

But late at night
He eases on down to the video store
For a little bit of...

Natural Joe
Got an easy flow
Wherever he goes
They say, "Here comes Joe"

Natural Joe
Looking slow and low
Look, there he goes
Go Natural Joe

Sometimes bored and sometimes lonely.
Pimple-faced and rather homely.
He wasn't much for socializing,
the TV kept a mesmerizing.

In one ear and out the other.
Picked up a trick from his older brother.
Got him a can of sniffing sauce,
pinned his mind upon a cross.

Lacquerhead knows but one desire!
Lacquerhead sets his skull on fire!

Lacquerhead knows no in-betweens,
huffing on bags of gasoline!

Sniffing paint since the seventh grade.
She was high on gin and gatorade.
On turpentine she lost her luck,
fell in front of a speeding pickup truck

He was a boy of soft demeanor.
And he loved his carburator cleaner.
The vapor made a sweet aroma,
he sniffed himself into a coma.

Lacquerhead knows but one desire!
Lacquerhead sets his skull on fire!

Lacquerhead knows no in-betweens,
huffing on bags of gasoline!

Keep on sniffing 'til your brain goes pop,
Keep on sniffing 'til your brain goes pop.

The Earth it did crack open
on the day that I was born
and a thousand merry pranksters
came dancin' through the storm.

I lay cradle bound
a howlin' out my mind
not knowin' years to come
I'd be shoutin' over din

I sucked information through the holes in my skull
as my belly gurgles hungry my mouth is always full.

I am Antipop; I'll run against the grain till the day I drop.
I am the Antipop; the man you cannot stop.

As a young man,
I plug into the tube,
but the stench of all that pretense
I cannot muddle through.

I lay on my back
and scan the radio
all that comes out my speakers
is a steady syrup flow.

I suck information through the holes in my skull
as my belly gurgles hungry my mouth is always full.

I stood by watching
and I seen 'em come and go.
I seen 'em make that million
then vanish in the snow.

They come upon you
like a pack of rabid hounds
as they slobber in your ears
and purge you with their sounds.

Pushing misinformation through the holes in my skull
my belly gurgles nauseous and still my mouth is full.

I am Antipop; I'll run against the grain till the day I drop.
I am the Antipop; the man you cannot stop.

Part I - Blinded by the Sun

Bring me back again,
I'd really rather not be out here on my own.
Someone reel me in,
I'm drifting ever farther from my home.

I remember when I was a baby
gazing in amazement at the sky.
Sing it twinkle twinkle little baby
daddy's gonna learn you to fly...

high...

like a coment through the sky.

Bring me back again,
I'd really rather not be out here on my own.
I'm drifting with the wind,
trying to hold the course that I've been shown.

I remember when I was a baby
staring in amazement at the sun.
Better shield your eyes now little baby
no one ever said you were the one;
no one ever said you were the one
who can't be blinded by the sun.
I think I'm blinded by the sun.

Part II - Sanity is Coming to Town

I like to taunt, I like to tease.
I'll bring your psyche to its knees.
Juggling.
Sanity is coming to your town.

Who gives a damn what you say,
you're pissing all your dreams away.
Juggling.
Sanity is coming to your town.

Part III - Pressing Onward Towards the Light

Pressing onward through the night.
Pressing onward towards the light.

Slice me up a big slab
Of that sympathetic cheer
If I'm zapped with radiation
They say I'll last another year

Line 'em up now
To Greet The Sacred Cow

My hands are full of protein
My arms are made of fire
If you're calling me a diplomat
I'll be calling you a liar

Line 'em up now
To Greet The Sacred Cow

Line 'em up now
To kill the sacred cow

The best of times, the worst of times,
the times you can't ignore.
Sometimes you bite the bullet
and flip flop on the floor.

They tell you where to go,
and they tell you what to do.
They set your face on fire
then stomp it out with their shoes.

I ain't no fool.
Mama didn't raise no fool.

The times I can't complain
are the times I do the most.
On a diet of black coffee
and prozac buttered toast.

These eunuchs in their prada
and Gucci flavored clothes.
Wouldn't know a fresh perspective
if it bit 'em up on the nose.

I ain't no fool.
Mama didn't raise no fool.

Don't do as they say,
just say as they do.
No flavor's quite so bitter
as the taste of one's own shoe.

I ain't no fool.
Mama didn't raise no fool.

I'm a dog, a dirty flying dog
I drink Campari with marinated wild hog

I've no sense; I lick electric fence
I put barbed wire in my pants and do a celtic dance

But when I can, I am a givin' man:
I'll flip you out the fire, and back up into the fryin' pan

If you're down lookin' like you're gonna drown,
Of all your friends, I'm the one who's most apt to stick around.
I'm a drownin' man

Who will save this drownin' man?
Who will save this drownin' man?
Who will save this dirty drownin' man?

You're so fine, so bright and shiny fine.
And I'm so proud to say that you in fact are a friend of mine

And doubly pleased with crooked and wobbly knees
I dive on in and backstroke right across these seas of cheese

But on the times when I'm not such a giving man
Please flip me out of the fire and backup into the frying pan

If you're down lookin' like your gonna drown
Of all your friends, I'm the one who's most apt to stick around
I'm a drownin' man

Who will save this drownin' man?
Who will save this drownin' man?
Who will save this dirty drownin' man?

Bodacious am a whole lotta bull
Over nineteen hundred pounds
He's born in Galry, Oklahoma
And he's the baddest sonsabitch around
If a Burma bull ever were a super star
Then Bodacious just might be
He's a cream colored, beefy brawn
Full-fledged, four-footed bovine celebrity

Who's gonna ride Bodacious?
Who's gonna tame him down?
Look out for Bodacious
He's bound to hold his ground
Here comes Bodacious
Ya'll just step aside
Big and bad Bodacious
Takes a toll from those who ride

Young Bo met a man named Tuff Hedeman
At the start of his buckin' spree
And Tuff became one of the few to make the whistle
Back in Nineteen Ninety-Three

Tuff tried to ride Bo again at the finals
In Nineteen Ninety-Five
Bodacious had got a little older and wiser
Tuff barely came out alive

Military show is Blastin' off to Kosovo.
Military show with lightning speed.
Sensitivity? Oh, just a rusty nail in the corporate show.
How many stabs before we bleed?

Those Pinocchios chattering out in stereo,
boy Pinnocchio and his golden deed.
Masculinity? Oh, galvanized in the world wide show
as we fertilise the seed.

Power mad, I didn't chop the tree down dad
I only try to do what's right.
Power man, the best friend that you ever had
unless of course you choose to fight.

Power mad, driving out of the shadows,
he never tires when he plays.
Power mad, he's a streak in the night time
speculating how he'll take on the world some day.

Originality? Oh, just a rusty nail in a Broadway show
how many stabs before we succeed.

Power mad, I didn't drop my pants down dad,
I know my left hand from my right.
Power man, the best friend that you ever had
unless of course you lose the fight.

I been fightin' gravity since I was two.

Questers of the prize
Blind men in the snow.
Some streak the skies
I choose to go below.

Skin moves toward malignant
Worshipping the sun.
They clamber over corpses
To be the chosen ones.

Drift along liquid sky.
Drift along liquid sky.

Descend through the darkness
To the vast terrain.
Down here on the bottom
You rarely hear the rain.

Drift along liquid sky.
Drift along liquid sky.
Drift along liquid sky.
Drift along liquid sky.

Coattails of a Dead Man
He wasn't lookin' for fanfare or fame but it all came around just the same. He then met a girl with desire in her eye, he gave her love, she took his name.
The times they were good, the times they were bad, most times it was just in between. The hard pill he swallowed was the times that they had, she put on display for all to be seen.
Some find their solace in work or the lord, she was quite content in her dream. When his eyes they burned from the bright lime light, he found comfort in the bottle of Ol' Jimmy Beam.
One day from the depths of his deep darkened hole, he reached out for something to feel. She offered back nothin' but lack of respect so he left himself out with two barrels of steel.
She cried in the day, she cried in the night. She cried loudest when someone was near. Whether crying for him or she cried for herself, the bigger the camera, the bigger the tear.
Most folks agree that she was living a hell and publicly she showed her pain. And never once was there a thought for herself, and the ever-growing slices of fortune and fame.
Now on the coattails of a dead man she'll ride on the coattails of a dead man she'll ride. On the coattails of a dead man she'll ride she'll ride, on the coattails of a dead man she'll ride she'll ride high.

The Heckler
Through the door it slithers in,Accompanied by its peers.Always groveling for attention,While no one really gives.In its mind it's full of witAnd quite the social king.It plants itself among the rest,Who give it deadly state.
It's just a matter of opinion
Further now theres a man of taste.Of talent and precision.To work and strive his years are foggedHas been his life's compensation.The stage is set. The perfect showIs put before the mass.Only to be ridiculedby some slimy, pompous snake.
It's just a matter of opinion.