Beck - Hotwax

It takes a backwash man to sing a backwash song Like a frying pan when the fire's gone Driving my pig while the band's taking pictures in the grass And my radio's smashed And I like pianos in the evening sun Dragging my heels til my day is done Saturday night in the captain's clothes Tender horns blowing when my jewelry froze Yo soy un disco quebrado Yo tengo chicle en mi cerebro I can't believe my way-back-when My Cadillac pants going much too fast Karaoke weekend at the suicide shack Community service and I'm still the mack Shocked my finger, spice in my hand I been spreading disease all across the land Beautiful, air-conditioned, sittin' in the kitchen Wishin' I was livin' like a hitman Face down in the guarantees Jaundiced honchos gettin' busy with ease 'Cause I get down, I get down, I get down all the way Yo soy un disco quebrado Yo tengo chicle en mi cerebro Sawdust songs of the plaid bartenders Western Unions of the country westerns Silver foxes looking for romance In their chainsmoke Kansas flashdance ass pants And you got the hotwax residues You never lose in your razorblade shoes Stealing pesos out of my brain Hazard signs down the Alamo lanes Radar systems piercing the souls You never get caught with the wax so rotten All my days I got the grizzly words Hijacked flavors that are flipping like birds Yo soy un disco quebrado Yo tengo chicle en mi cerebro