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The Birthday Party




Music World  →  Lyrics  →  T  →  The Birthday Party  →  Albums  →  Junkyard

The Birthday Party Album


Junkyard (1982)
1982
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this time it's the truth
this time nothings gonna fall on through
these books
are broken up
Blast off!
wham! bam!
Right off the shelf
Right off the shelf
Blast off!

this is it- the last one
this ine's the final-in-a-fair-field-of-wheat
this building
will may be fall down
Blast off!
Down! down!
Down! down!
The ground
Down! down!
The ground
Blast off!

. . .


there is woman - pie in here
mr. evangelist says she's hit
the best cook ya ever had
ya can't blame the good woman now, dad
and ya locked him up for twenty years
now there's action on the basement stairs now
a monster half-man half-beast grind
hear the hatchet (grind grind)
the pilgrim gets one hacked daughter
and all we get are forty hack reporters
uptown one hundred skirts are bleeding
and mr. evangelist says

she's hit ev'ry little bit
she's hit ev'ry little bit
she's hit ev'ry little bit
she's hit she's hit she's hit she's hit

now if only we could all grow wings and fly
sweet hatchet SWING low son
I'm feeling mighty lonesome
christen the bastard jack dad
the head-shrinker is a quack
anyone 'anyone who'd wear their hair like that'
the vinyl is so cool but the conversation's cruel
hold my head romeo it's in a rodeo
hold my heart daddy-o it just won't go-o-o-o
hold my heart romeo it's in a rodeo
hold my head daddy-o it just won't go-o-o-o
and all the girls across the world
and all the girls across the world


are hit ev'ry little bit
she's hit ev'ry little bit
she's hit ev'ry little bit
she's hit ev'ry little bit
she's hit she's hit she's hit she's hit
and she won't get up
she's hit ev'ry little bit she's hit
she's hit she's hit she's hit yeah
she's hit she's hit she's hit
and she won't get up! and she's hit she's hit
she's hit ev'ry little bit
she's hit she's hit she's hit

goodbye.

. . .


Dead Joe Joe... Joe Joe

oh-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho Dead Joe
oh-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho Dead Joe

welcome to the car smash
welcome to the car smash
welcome to the car smash
a-a-a-a-a-smash
Dead Joe

Junk-Sculpture turning back to JUNK
Junk-Sculpture turning back to JUNK
Junk-Sculpture turning back to JUNK
ju-ju-ju-ju-junk
Dead Joe
oh Joe no-o-o-o-o-o! it's christmas time Joe
it's christmans time now for you
and all the little bells are hanging two-by-two
the holly and the nativity
oh speak to me Joe speak to me Joe speak to me oh
oh-oh-oh---oh--oh--oh--oh--oh--oh--oh
De-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e--e-e-e-ead Joe

oh-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho Dead Joe
oh-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho Dead Joe

welcome to the car smash
welcome to the car smash
welcome to the car crash
you can't tell the girls from the boys anymore
you can't tell the girls from the boys anymore
you can't tell the girls from the boys anymore
you can't tell the girls from the boys anymore
ho-Oh-Oh-OH-Oh-Oh---Oh--Oh--Oh---Oh---Oh---Oh
De-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e---e-e-e-e-ead Joe.

. . .


inanimational items elude I, and
in-an-emotional-motion I swallow my
motive of quicker location is slammed
my dim chance of skipping this thick world is thin

they call me Dim
i am the Dim Locator,
Dim Locator
LOCO, LOMO, LOCO, LOMO, L'WOW, WOW, WOW
LOCO, LOMO, LOCO, LOMO, L'WOW, WOW, WOW
LOCO, LOMO, LOCO, LOMO, L'WOW, WOW, WOW
LOCO, LOMO, LOCO, LOMO

intriquintomitry treads on my trail
entriggering traps for a gross gang of ghost types
who later are packed in a cast IRON trunk
these things have been known, to get out of their wraps


don't call me Dim
i am the Dim Locator,
Dim Locator
LOCO, LOMO, LOCO, LOMO, L'WOW, WOW, WOW
LOCO, LOMO, LOCO, LOMO, L'WOW, WOW, WOW
LOCO, LOMO, LOCO, LOMO, L'WOW, WOW, WOW
LOCO, LOMO, LOCO, LOMO, L'WOW, WOW, WOW, WOWWWWWW!

fog fished and filtered is filling my case book, of
friends who fall foul of my files trip and BreakNeck
are stacked in the woodshed for further good use
there's some certain people who shouldn't start fires


so call me Dim!
i am the Dim Locator!
Dim Locator!
DON'T CALL ME DIM!
i am the Dim Locator
DON'T CALL ME DIM!
i am the Dim Locator
DON'T CALL ME DIM!

. . .


H! A! M! L! E! T! Yeah...

Hamlet's fishing in the grave
a-fishing in the grave
thru the custard bones and stuff
he ain't got no friend in there
no he ain't got no friend in there
I believe our man's in love
Hamlet got a gun-now
he wears a crucifix
he wears a crucifix
pow pow pow pow/pow pow pow pow
Hamlet move so beautiful
moves so beautiful
walking thru the flowers
waving to the people
all those beautiful people
lying in the shadows
he's movin' down the street-now
he likes the look of that Cadillac
and now he wants that Cadillac
pow pow pow pow/pow pow pow pow
is this love some kinda love
is this love some kinda love
now he's comin' down my street
crawling up my stairs
he's coming to my room
he's knocking on my door
WHERE FOR ART THOU BABY-FACE
where... for... art... thou...
pow pow pow pow/pow pow pow pow
is this love
is this love
POW!
he shoot it inside
he shoot it inside
POW!
some kinda love...
don't let 'em steal your heart away
he went and stole my heart POW!
hey hey hey POW!!

. . .


this is a dead letter tale
if I could make this print talk
you made a deep mark/deep mark on me
and only saints say such things as these
so I slid under the floor
under the oak and the iron
with you under oak and iron
under the thick and under the thin
where only fire grows...

I forgot to tell you several things - Ma
I forgot to tell you several things - Ma
I forgot to tell you several things - Ma
I forgot to tell you 'bout the 7 sins

and I spat dead letter words
and all the breath that I own
imprinted one word in red/I read
and only saints say such things as these
about the marks on your throat
under the oak and the iron
under the fat and the thick and the thin
and all of that, and a few 100 more
and only fire grow
I heard the fire grow
alone in the...

I forgot to tell you several things - Ma
I forgot to tell you several things - Ma
I forgot to tell you several things - Ma
I forgot to tell you 'bout the 7 sins
(repeat to end)

. . .


Right!

Big-Jesus soul-mates Trash-Can
fucking rotten business this
both feet in the Bad-Boot
stiff in the crypt, babay, like a rock
rock-rock-rock
Big-Jesus soul-mates Trash-Can
and he pumped me fulla Trash at least it smelt like Trash
and he's got greasy hair wears a suit of Gold
but god gave me Sex appeal
right right

well-well-well-rock
well-well-well-rock
well-well-well-rock
well-well-well-rock
he drives a Trash-Can
he drives a Trash-Can
he drives a Trash-Can
he drives a Trash-Can
he's comin' to my town
he's comin' to my town
he's comin' to my town
he's comin' to my town rock-rock-rock-
r-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-ck!
right!


Big-Jesus-Oil-King down in Texas
drives great holy tanks of Gold
screams from heaven's Graveyard
american heads will roll in Texas
roll llike daddy's meat
roll under those singing stars of Texas
roll under those glorious singing stars of Texas

well-well-well-rock
well-well-well-rock
well-well-well-rock
well-well-well-rock
he drives a Trash-Can
he drives a Trash-Can
he drives a Trash-Can
he's comin' to my town
he drives a Trash-Can
he's comin' to my town
he drives a Trash-Can
he's comin' to my town
he drives a Trash-Can
he's comin' to my town
he drives a Trash-Can

. . .


hey-hey-hey-hey
now they put the stink on us
throw us to the sucubus
fed us to the incubus
and brung in the Saprophagus
c'mon and kiss me black
black as the pit in which you found me

she's like a dog you have to kick her
sleeps like a swastica
and says 'everyone's a winner now
cos everyone's a sinner now'
c'mon and kiss me black
c'mon and sail your ships around me
c'mon and kiss me black
black as the sea in which you drowned me
c'mon and kiss me black
run your crusty cutless through me
c'mon and kiss me black
kiss me black and then undo me.

. . .


I stuck a six-inch gold blade in the head of a girl
she: lying through her teeth, him: on his back
hands off this one, hands off! she cried
grinning at me from hip to hip
hands off, pretty baby, tough bone then so soft to slip
oooh yeah
I stuck a six-inch gold blade in the head of a girl
sharks-fin slices sugar-bed slices that pretty red-head
I love you! now me! I love you!
laughter, laughter
oh baby, those skinny girls, they're so quick to murder
oooh yeah
shake it baby, c'mon, shake, shake it baby
(ad infinitum)

. . .


well I love that kewpie doll
well I love that kewpie doll
well I love that kewpie doll
yeah I bought her in a show
I dressed her up in a cheap red cotton dress
but everything was either fished-out or spat-out
fished-out or spat-out
well I love that kewpie doll
but I could not make it stick
well I love that kewpie doll
but I could not make it stick
only she could save my soul
she put her hands inside of me
well I love that kewpie doll
dressed her in a cheap-red-cotton-dress
fished it out now spat it out now
spat it out in front of me
well I love that kewpie doll
but I could not make it stick
doll doll doll doll doll doll doll doll
I held her in my cheap arms
she believed in me, she believed in me
her soul and my arms
well I love that kewpie doll
I told her phoney stories
well I love that kewpie doll
she believed in me
doll doll doll doll doll doll doll doll
kewpie on a stick
I can see her coming even now
kewpie on a stick
I can see her walking to me even now
well I love that kewpie doll
I can see her walking to me even now
well I love that kewpie doll
I can see her walking to me even now
well I love that kewpie doll
but I could not make it stick. end.

. . .


I am the King, I am the kind
One dead marine through the hatch
scratch and scrape this heavenly body
every ince of winning skin
there's garbage in honeys sack again
honey honey honey honey
come on and kiss me
Honey honey honey
honey's child is taken over this place
two dead marines standing in line
drink to me! this heavenly body
every inch a winning thing
honey honey honey
hack hack hack hack this heavenly body
yack yack yack yack yack goes junk-face
scratch scape scratch this winning skin
there's garbage in honey's sack again
garbage in honey garbage in honey
garbage in honey's sack again
garbage in honey
junkwayrd king junkyard king
King king king

. . .


Whoooahh! Bite! Whoooah! Bite!
Release the bats! Release the bats!
Don't tell me that it doesn't hurt
A hundred fluttering in your skirt
Don't tell me that it doesn't hurt

My baby is alright
She doesn't mind a bit of dirt
She says "horror vampire bat bite"
She says "horror vampire
how I wish those bats would bite"
Whoooah! Bite! Whoooah! Bite!

Release the bats! Release the bats!
Pump them up and explode the things
Her legs are chafed by sticky wings
Sticky sticky little things

My baby is a cool machine
She moves to the pace of her generator,
Says damn that sex supreme
She says damn that horror bat
Sex vampire, cool machine

Release the bats! Release the bats!
Release them!

Baby is a cool machine
she moves to the pulse of a generator
She says damn that sex supreme
She says, she says damn that horror bat
Sex horror sex bat sex horror sex vampire
Sex bat horror vampire sex
Cool machine
Horror bat. Bite!
Cool Machine. Bite!
Sex vampire. Bite!

. . .


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