Major Parkinson Lyrics

Bicycle!

They tried to put me on the bicycle.
They tried to hook me to the white electric chair,
and I was groovy.

Papa’s writing in a book, he’s got a master plan.
He stole the phrases from “The mad delirium crush”,
and I was groovy.

Sing a song, when you cry, in spite of all these currencies of suffering.

Honey we were nothing but a love affair.
You were nothing but a love affair to me,
you gave me nothing, nothing, none.
A woman is a crime, she’s the rhythm of a rhyme,
an expression of a code. I can solve it anytime.
There’s a guy sneaking behind her shoulders.

She’s a girl, and he’s a boy, and I know the game they’re playing
’cause they’re dumb, transparent, incapable of stopping me.

A bitch slap on the sideburn.
She was drinking – too tall,
out of proportions, she promised to be small.
I only wanted a real good time.
I only wanted to make her go.

Be careful with the gun. Out of my forehead. I think you’d better run.

A bomb in the apartment, treacherous security,
a blast in the commercial testing results,
dangerous pollution floating on the avenue,
Body renovation Macintosh.
Mommy filled me up with sardonical precautions.
Sent me off to drugs and progressive rock.
Where’s my Tsarina? My Mezarina?

A radical sensation: My body is on the air,
my face is pretty ugly, I see it everywhere.
My mind is separated for better and for worse.
It’s living in my stomach. I’m a lipstick in a purse.

God I’m afraid. I feel like somebody’s watching me or you or him.

It’s a song. When you cry in spite of all these currencies of suffering,
so come down from the ceiling and cry.
They tried to put me on the bicycle.

Bazooka Mirror

Night time is catching up
like a broken buttercup.
In my ethical assisted violence,
days are running out of order.
Why won’t you talk to me?
Yesterday you talked so sweet,
over thirty little cups of cappuccino
and a toast when we said goodbye.

Talk to me!
I miss the sense of isolation, every day of the week.
What are you doing in my room?
Talk to me!
Maybe we can have a conversation,
like we did on TV when there was nothing else to see.

Tell me are you having fun,
even though what said is done,
when the camera was rolling backwards
and the video director slept.
Look what they have done to me.
I’m looking like a broken Christmas tree,
in the radio transistor silence,
where the lights are playing out of tune.

Meat me in the disco

Girl! Meet me in the disco.
We can trim our branches and dangle from the gallows of cellophane bricks,
laughing in the smog walk,
looking at the traumatized ballistic Primadonna in the corner with a stick.

Girl! Be careful what you wish for,
you don’t know what you give until it’s gone
and when it’s gone you’ll never get it back again.
Just because you’re faithful doesn’t make you square or righteous.
It’s just a matter of perception.

The man is looking at me with a degenerated facial presence,
shoulders wide, looking for a ride.
He is sliding through the crowd with a cynical laughter.
Automobiles and scattered heels.
Hands upon the wheel Miss Daisy!
Everybody looks so good!

A moaning Casanova in the backseat of a choking convertible.
A rolling dice between two thighs, a naked couple riding a caramel.
The war! The war! It has begun.
I feel like dancing, jumping, having some fun.
We are the overnight collectables
and now it’s time to feed the prey.

Look at my girl! She’s a star, She plays piano.
Dead to the bone, she’s alone and got no places to go.
If that’s me in five years, I’ll blow my head off,
but I’m not like her at all, I’ve still got places to go.

Girl! Meet me in the disco.
We can trim our branches and dangle from the gallows of cellophane bricks,
standing in the smog walk,
looking at the traumatized ballistic Primadonna in the corner with a stick.
She’s in the corner with a stick.

Silicon hips

Goddamn those silicon hips smell bad.
Yet it feels like they’re real in every way.
Cause ever since I took this job in June,
I’ve been a sucker for girls.
I watch them run, I watch them spin.

Once upon a time, when the world was a dirty scene.
I had a redneck, spandex, vagabond eating disorder.
I said I don’t wanna die like my mother used to do.
It was a perfect holiday.
Now I’m feeling so alone.
I want attention!

I was alone because I lost my only friend.
He’s the latest fashion to be seen,
a boulevard of rusty limousines.
Yes, out in the back it blew my brain.

Now the years are crashing by,
still I’m looking for some purity,
a perfect house, a quiet life with Judy Garland.
But one day I trapped myself in common sense
and barricaded my door with all these flashy trends,
cause somehow over the rainbow life is so unfair.
Is it me I’m looking for?
Well I don’t care.
Will you take this ring?

Sorry to inform you, I could never love you like you do.
You’ll never make me bleed the way you chew those rotten puzzle crackers
when your mind is a blindfold.
Pick me up, hang me like a sucker in a leash,
I can tell you anything you wanna hear.
Save me from the cash register brutality,
coming from your Stairmasturbator vanity.
You see, everything left is a cup of sanity
and all the parasites in your domestic personality.

Goddamn those silicon hips smell bad,
yet it feels like they’re real in every way,
but one day they’ll fry under the sun.
On the tip of a gun. I guess that’s how it’s done.

But when I’m sturdy will I love myself, start a riot, start a fight, start a revolution?
Will I be different in this world if I threw away this superficial life?

Cause, that is what you do to me! Yes, that is what you do to me!
Cause I’m feeling, so alone and I want to…

Casanova

I’m on the front page of a dirty magazine,
Mr. January pumping kerosene.
Can’t you see my face, it’s a lie?
“Close the curtains, flip the switch, make me happy, baby you’re a bitch”
“Turn me on, turn me on, tonight”.

Casanova, do you love her?
Now do you really think that you would find that bitter self-esteem
to push between her legs and make her happy like you used to do?
in the time when everything was simple,
she was seventeen and you where twenty-two,
and it was summer.
It was the summer when you ran away,
for the traffic noise of screaming rubber ducks
and grieving wives on channel 45,
where no one talks about the weather anymore.

Casanova, you’re getting older.
Now the world is not for you to blame.
It’s just a movie rolling backwards randomly objecting choices that we call in vain,
and the violence that you try to justify is not a language that I still contain,
but in the summer, I will wrap you up in cellophane
and bury you under the pouring rain,
because no one talks about the weather anymore.

It’s a job

But hey, what could I do?
I was eating more than I could chew.
Now those cavities are swelling.
They’re bursting in a bubble of champagne,
but I have painted the house,
I have organized the furniture in alphabetical order
and my carpet’s made of cashmere.
It’s so clean.

Hey, what can I say? I just hate those barber cues in May,
cause when the summer dress is waving,
it makes me all remember who I am.
Still my porch is symmetrical,
my teeth are white,
the lawn is green,
my kids believe in God
and my pool is full of chlorine.
Clean.

Boom!! Out of the blue,
the past comes sneaking out on you.
Dogs are lurking in the alley,
cause somebody caught you digging in the dirt.
And you can’t figure out where to get the cleaning products for this job.
It’s a job, but there will always be a last stain of blood.

In a rush you are burning down your house.
You change your name a thousand times,
but they will recognize your face and appearance,
and your parents they will give you to the cops.
Yes, no one says a murder is easy but murder is a job,
it’s a job, but there will always be a last stain of blood.

Tell me, tell me now, tell me, tell me, tell me.
What will you do when the murder gets to you?
Tell me now, tell me, tell me, tell me.
What will you do when the murderer gets to you?

Did you do that? Did you put him in the trunk of the Chevy?
Is he heavy to carry? Do you have equipment in the bag?
Yes, as a matter of fact I brought everything you need for:
Rococo chopping, body wrapping, ankle strapping, body cracking,
higher learning, lawyer burning, cold suspicion, inquisition,
body heat acceleration, heart attack or simulation, papers for the preparation.
Daddy’s got a plan.

Dig a little deeper, dig a little deeper, dig a little deeper.
Deeper! Deeper! Deeper!

Tell me, tell me now, tell me, tell me tell me.
What will you do when the murder gets to you?
Tell me now, tell me, tell me, tell me.
What will you do when the murderer gets the truth?

I feel abused and disabled and my mind is never stable.
In the twist, I’m a tango or a TV pay fandango
and the words that I trust is a require for request.
If a man’s making money he is better than the rest.

I’m a whore! I’m a whore! It is what I do best.
And the two-headed hammer on the dead man’s chest
is economy, pure and simple interests,
And we’re all together in it,
if you’re out then you have to pay the price.

Tell me, tell me now, tell me, tell me tell me.
What will you do when the murder gets to you?
Tell me now, tell me, tell me, tell me.
What will you do when the murderer gets the truth?

Sanity fair

Snowflakes falling from the ground.

Baby can I have another dance,
another dance with you?
Cause I just don’t know what to do
when I see your eyes walking around,
so if you need me I’ll be here.
Lets sing a song.

Why won’t you walk away?
Why want you walk away from me!

Just take a look at us now. The sanitarium joy.
I got your lipstick on my white sleeve and they are talking to me.

I’m dancing on the carousel, babies pumping gasoline
waiting “Forties cookie queen jam”.
I’m on the carousel waving with a samurai sword in epileptic sodomy.

But when did this obscene insanity become such a sophisticated topic to discuss for us?
When all that I wanted from the dirty Cinderella to uncover my expenses for the purple bus.
Oh, we had a few drinks, we had a few laughs, we had a few kicks and then bang.
I’m a toy boy stereotype and a plastic celluloid Jesus for the dashboard
in your car, smoking tar, breaking bottles with my teeth.
Off white and capitol blue. Just tell me what to do!!

I’m dancing on the carousel, babies pumping gasoline,
waiting “forties cookie queen jam”
I’m on the carousel waving with a samurai sword in epileptic sodomy!

Hey little girl. I got your lipstick on my sleeve.
We got so lost on Christmas eve.
Now I’m stuck in bed with leprechauns and reindeers in my head.
You give me shivers down my spine when you tell me you are mine.
Now life is smiling back to me again.

I never promised to be good.
I never promised to be faithful.
Just smash your head against the wall
when you’re feeling disappointed.

I’m dancing on the carousel, babies pumping gasoline,
waiting “forties cookie queen jam”
I’m on the carousel waving with a samurai sword in epileptic sodomy!

I’m dancing on the carousel, dizzy, floating a million miles away.

Death in the Candystore

Love me, love me, I am just a lonely boy.
Give me soda pop and toys.
Love me, love me, please a little candy girl.
Take those chocolates from the boys.

The sight of angry children, and the way they’re drawing obsession in their moves.
It’s all about the nature, hate is everywhere in that tiny store.
And when Molly gets her kicks, gives out candy for the tricks.
Yeah, those kids always eat too fast. Still they’re dying for a bag or a multicolored drag,
and when they cry, they say:

Love me, love me, I’m just a lonely boy. Give me soda pop and toys.
Love me, love me, please a little candy girl. Take those chocolates from the boys.

I say: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8. The number is the worst, It’s the devil of the game.
And then, when your babies seems like puppets on a string,
you will know there is a catch cause your joining in the ring.
Mrs. Hopalong melodramatic gets the panic. Do kids ever get enough?
When it’s time to close the store, they will always ask for more,
but that is life.

Love me, love me, I’m just a lonely boy. Give me soda pop and toys.
Love me, love me, please a little candy girl. Take those chocolates from the boys.

They’re eating way too fast.

This is for the devil in the picture that you couldn’t believe.
It’s the truth of the agony you couldn’t achieve.
So where’s your daddy sleeping over? Why did he never tell?
Where’s your mom? Where’s her lover? Where is Nanny Estelle?
Are they going for the pressure? Are they always too high?
Are you bad for the future? Are you going to die?

Love me, love me, I’m just a lonely boy. Soda pop and toys.
Love me, love me, I’m just a lonely boy. Soda pop and toys.

197

My daddy’s in the movie. Section 45.
He’s got to figure out a way to put Marilyn behind the yellow curtain,
sleepless, weepless as he keeps on banging his head upon the screen.
He didn’t mean to me rude,
he didn’t mean to be nude in front of all the pretty girls.
He did a masochistic twist with a razor,
played a little song for the duck taped girl.

A simple operation, practically impossible to blow.
There are 197 numbers on the table, sketches, a ticket to the show.
She’s a 24 Madonna, a voluptuous girl, a ballerina Suprema.
She’s the German at the back of the commercial delay.
I called the manager. Monkey see monkey do, for the Monday show!

A body on detention, all the boys are peppering the kid,
Mister Epileptic only 17 this summer, blue in the eyes, blue in the face
and the testicles breaking on the bench.

Hey, don’t you worry too much.
I am the doctor with the beautiful touch.
I’m only here to make you fell a little better today,
a little better in the usual way,
so don’t you cry, I’ll fix you up
and put a smile on you face,
put you together, read the medical news
that you never had the chance to understand on your own.
It’s so easy to throw away everything else when you’re all alone

She tasted good like gingerous pie, but then the old man forced me to cry.
She drank me up two bottles of bliss and when she stopped she gave me a kiss
I want to have a piece of you trust, wrap it up in your teenage lust.
Take a ride with Citizen Kane until the world is going insane.

I Am Erica

I met a little girl on the marketplace,
born without a proper face,
made to fill that magical sensation.
A lovely voice like a radio,
talking in a lavatory disarray
Yacuzzi conversation flow.
It was the summer of 187.

She played piano, stiff to the bone,
blue in the eyes under a veil of leather,
we dressed her in red, but she took off her hip,
and now she’s gone for good.

Dance, dance, dance, I’m Erica.
Look at me, lucky me, I’m all you got.

Yes, I’ve been in love with you baby
ever since I was a high school boy,
but I never said it’s gonna be easy.

Hello, hello, we’re putting up a show.
The Germans in the attic baking chains of little Joes,
It’s such a beautiful day, they’re crying on display
where bitterflies on motorbikes and nasty conversations are the best.

Dance, dance, dance, I’m Erica.
Look at me, look at me, I’m all you got.
Yes I had a crush on you baby ever since I was an orphanage girl.
You promised me a place in your world.

Baby, baby, baby, can I kiss you?
Can I kiss you on the lip?
Can I put you in a jelly belly jar and take a sip?
Baby, baby can I touch you?
Can I touch you on the thigh.
Can I touch you where my shoulder needs to cry?

They watch, they touch, they promised way too much.
The greasy hands are ripping of her pants and all her friends they say:
Hello, hello, look at her now.
Just hanging from the chandelier, she’s such a ballerina.
Oh God, you must have seen her when she was doing the fandango.

Now roll the curtains down.
Here comes the queen of the play,
the Japanese girl with the rusty tambourine.

Dance, dance, dance America!
Look at me, Look at me, I’m all you got.
Yes I’ve been loving you baby ever since I was an orphanage girl.

Awkward as a drunk

Oh, tell me why I’m to blame for this eager
to touch every inch of your body.
Oh, tell me why I was laughing when you fucked up my mind,
when you followed me down in the drain.

I love you like the humming of pouring scotch.
I’m a puppy with a bone when I’m drinking too much,
but I’m ready for the day when the ship goes down,
when they play the violin.
And my mommy and my daddy will be proud of me
when I’m hanging from the brink of sanity,
patching me up when I break my teeth
from the worth I cannot chew.

Ever since elementary school I was dating different girls
but none of them could dress up like a bottle,
so when I lost all my empathy in a bowl of brown Mckay,
the traffic lights in your distorted bedroom sustained,
now my brain is hurting like a rusty chain.

So tell me why I’m to blame for this eager
to crush every inch of your body and soul.
Even though I was laughing when you fucked up my mind,
drew the line to the hole in my head.

Greatest love

The greatest love that you’ll ever read,
is in a book of fairytales and mystery.
Where all the troubles are black and white
and all you see is heaven from the open sight,
when you are crying, crying too slow.
They say that everyone’s happy there,
by the untamed rivers, floating with the breeze.
The sweet affection of thousand tears,
a better wish for silence, the flowers and the trees.

What’s the greatest love that you’ll ever be,
a face in the mirror?
What’s the greatest love that you’ll ever be,
if I could never read?

When your heart is a lonely place,
and your mind is plain at the back of the race,
and when your money becomes a bribe,
and all the people you hate seems like the friends of your life,
and you’re dying,
dying too slow.

Don’t take the irony seriously,
cause all the faces you know they are all versions of you,
so don’t be selfish and cynical,
cause all the problems you have are all created by you,
so don’t you hate me-

Cause I’m the greatest love that you’ll ever be,
a face in the mirror.
Yes, I’m the greatest love that you’ll ever be,
but when you turn off the lights.

Stuck in the back,
I’m your reason to be sorry,
I’m the devil, I’m your crack,
I’m the maker of your worries.
‘Till the break of your neck
I’m your pain until you die,
in bitterness, in better days, the cheater of a lie.
I’m your president, hypocrisy for beggars and the blind,
I’m the sick manipulator of the beauties that you find.
On the biggest contradiction for the pain you love the most,
I am your life, I am your hope,
yes I am Jesus, I’m your satisfaction.

I’m the greatest love that you’ll ever be, a face in the mirror.
I’m the greatest love that you’ll ever be, but life is just misery.
Cause when the greatest love is a cup of tea and a road to suicide,
then the greatest love is just what you need.
So come on!