Tell Me, Have Better Lyrics To A Song Ever Been Penned Than This?

[THUNDER HANDS]

The Rangers had a homecoming
In Harlem late last night
And the Magic Rat drove his sleek machine
Over the Jersey state line
Barefoot girl sitting on the hood of a Dodge
Drinking warm beer in the soft summer rain
The Rat pulls into town rolls up his pants
Together they take a stab at romance
And disappear down Flamingo Lane

Well the Maximum Lawmen run down Flamingo
Chasing the Rat and the barefoot girl
And the kids out there live just like shadows
Always quiet, holding hands
From the churches to the jails
Tonight all is silence in the world
As we take our stand
Down in Jungleland

Well the midnight gang's assembled
And picked a rendezvous for the night
They'll meet 'neath that giant Exxon sign
That brings this fair city light
Man there's an opera out on the Turnpike
There's a ballet being fought out in the alley
Until the local cops
Cherry Tops
Rips this holy night
The street's alive
As secret debts are paid
Contacts made, they vanish unseen
Kids flash guitars just like switch-blades
Hustling for the record machine
The hungry and the hunted
Explode into rock 'n' roll bands
That face off against each other out in the street
Down in Jungleland

In the parking lot the visionaries
Dress in the latest rage
Inside the backstreet girls are dancing
To the records that the DJ plays
Lonely-hearted lovers
Struggle in dark corners
Desperate as the night moves on
Just one look
And a whisper, and they're gone

Beneath the city two hearts beat
Soul engines running through a night so tender
In a bedroom locked
In whispers of soft refusal
And then surrender
In the tunnels uptown
The Rat's own dream guns him down
As shots echo down them hallways in the night
No one watches when the ambulence pulls away
Or as the girl shuts out the bedroom light

Outside the street's on fire
In a real death waltz
Bewtween what's flesh and what's fantasy
And the poets down here
Don't write nothing at all
They just stand back and let it all be
And in the quick of the night
They reach for their moment
And try to make an honest stand
But they wind up wounded
Not even dead
Tonight in Jungleland

[arwalden]

1. Yes! The Lyrics To CAR WASH Are Much Better!

:-) :hi:

[havocmom]

3. And never forget the lyrics

to The Rainbow Connection!

[THUNDER HANDS]

4. oh yes!

Ooh ooh
You might not ever get rich
But let me tell ya it's better than diggin' a ditch
There ain't no tellin' who you might meet
A movie star or maybe even an Indian chief

(Workin')
At the car wash
Workin' at the car wash, girl
Come on and sing it with me
(Car wash)
Sing it with the feelin' ya'all
(Car wash, girl)

Ooh!

Some of the work gets kinda hard
This ain't no place to be if you planned on bein' a star
Let me tell you it's always cool
And the boss don't mind sometimes if you act the fool

At the car wash
Whoa whoa whoa whoa
Talkin' about the car wash, girl
Come on, ya'all and sing it for me
(Car wash)
Oooh oooh oooh
(Car wash, girl)

(Work and work)
Well, those cars never seem to stop coming
(Work and work)
Keep those rags and machines humming
(Work and work)
My fingers to the bone
(Work)
Can't wait 'til it's time to go home (?)

(Hey, get your car washed today)
Fill up and you don't have to pay
Come on and give us a play
(Do the wash, right away)

(The car wash)
Talkin' 'bout the car wash
Car wash, girl
Come on, ya'all, let's sing it with me
(Car wash)
Sing it with feelin', ya'all
(Car wash, girl)

Whoa whoa whoa whoa
(Car wash)
Never seem to stop comin'
What'd I say
Keep those rags and machines hummin'
(Car wash)
Let me tell you, it's always cool . . .

[arwalden]

13. LOL!! Aren't They Inspiring??

:hi:

[Village Idiot]

2. YES! - Jungleland is OVERRATED!

It's Hard to be a Saint in the City - Bruce Springsteen


I had skin like leather and the diamond-hard look of a cobra
I was born blue and weathered but I burst just like a supernova
I could walk like Brando right into the sun
Then dance just like a Casanova
With my blackjack and jacket and hair slicked sweet
Silver star studs on my duds like a Harley in heat
When I strut down the street I could feel its heartbeat
The sisters fell back and said "Don't that man look pretty"
The cripple on the corner cried out "Nickels for your pity"
Them downtown boys sure talk gritty
It's so hard to be a saint in the city

I was the king of the alley I could talk some trash
I was the prince of the paupers crowned downtown at the beggar's bash
I was the pimp's main prophet I kept everything cool
A backstreet gambler with the luck to lose
And when the heat came down it was left on the ground
The devil appeared like Jesus through the steam in the street
Showin' me a hand I knew even the cops couldn't beat
I felt his hot breath on my neck as I dove into the heat
It's so hard to be a saint when you're just a boy

And the sages of the subway sit just like the living dead
As the tracks clack out the rhythm their eyes fixed straight ahead
They ride the line of balance and hold on by just a thread
But it's too hot in these tunnels you can get hit up by the heat
You get up to get out at your next stop but they push you back down in your seat
Your heart starts beatin' faster as you struggle to your feet
Then you're outa that hole and back up on the street
And them South Side sisters sure look pretty
The cripple on the corner cries out "Nickels for your pity"
And them downtown boys sure talk gritty
It's so hard to be a saint in the city


Now - THERE'S some writing!!!

[THUNDER HANDS]

8. I'll See You 'Hard To Be A Saint In The City' and raise you a

57 CHannels and Nuthin' On

I bought a bourgeois house in the Hollywood hills
With a truckload of hundred thousand dollar bills
Man came by to hook up my cable TV
We settled in for the night my baby and me
We switched 'round and 'round 'til half-past dawn
There was fifty-seven channels and nothin' on

Well now home entertainment was my baby's wish
So I hopped into town for a satellite dish
I tied it to the top of my Japanese car
I came home and I pointed it out into the stars
A message came back from the great beyond
There's fifty-seven channels and nothin' on

Well we might'a made some friends with some billionaires
We might'a got all nice and friendly if we'd made it upstairs
All I got was a note that said "Bye-bye John
Our love is fifty-seven channels and nothin' on"

So I bought a .44 magnum it was solid steel cast
And in the blessed name of Elvis well I just let it blast
'Til my TV lay in pieces there at my feet
And they busted me for disturbing the almighty peace
Judge said "What you got in your defense son?"
"Fifty-seven channels and nothin' on"

I can see by your eyes friend you're just about gone
Fifty-seven channels and nothin' on...

[ret5hd]

5. Up With People...

remember that? now that was talent!

[BurtWorm]

21. The extra "Up" was a stroke of genius!

Up, up with people...

:thumbsup:

[ret5hd]

23. they don't write 'em like that anymore, i'm telling ya'.

[BurtWorm]

24. Thank the GODS!

;)

[billyoc]

6. Sorry, bro, here ya go!

The machinist climbs his Ferris wheel like a brave
And the fire-eater's lyin' in a pool of sweat, victim of the heat wave
Behind the tent, the hired hand tightens his legs on the sword swallower's blade
Circus town's on the shortwave

Well, the runway lies ahead like a great false dawn
Fat lady, big mama, Missy Bimbo sits in her chair and yawns
And the man-beast lies in his cage sniffin' popcorn
And the midget licks his fingers and suffers Missy Bimbo's scorn
Circus town's been born

And a press roll drummer go, ballerina to-and-fro, cartwheelin' up on that tightrope
With a cannon blast, lightnin' flash, movin' fast through the tent, Mars-bent
He's gonna miss his fall, oh, God save the human cannonball
And the flyin' Zambinis watch Margarita do her neck twist
And the ringmaster gets the crowd to count along: 95, 96, 97

A ragged suitcase in his hand, he steals silently away from the circus grounds
And the highway's haunted by the carnival sounds
They dance like a great greasepaint ghost on the wind
A man in baggy pants, a lonely face, a crazy grin
Runnin' home to some small Ohio town
Jesus, send some sweet women to save all your clowns

And Circus Boy dances like a monkey on barbed wire
And the barker romances with a junkie, she's got a flat tire
And now the elephants dance real funky and the band plays like a jungle fire
Circus town's on the live wire

And the strong man Samson lifts the midget, little Tiny Tim, up on his shoulders, way up
And carries him on down the midway, past the kids, past the sailors, to his dimly lit trailer
And the Ferris wheel turns and turns like it ain't ever gonna stop
And the circus boss leans over and whispers into the little boy's ear
"Hey, son, you want to try the big top?
All aboard, Nebraska's our next stop"

[THUNDER HANDS]

12. damn, i was looking for those lyrics too!

you beat me to it!

[peekaloo]

17. I lurve this song....actually all of 'The Wild, the Innocent..........'

sweet.

[BurtWorm]

22. Yip yip yip yip yip yip yip yip yip yip yip

Yip yip yip yip yip yip yip yip yip yip yip yip
Yip yip yip yip yip yip yip yip yip yip yip
Yip yip yip yip yip yip yip yip yip yip yip yip

The old man, he was flesh-they wheeled him in upon a trolley
Vera Lynn, Vera Lynn
Draw a window on his skin

This old man, he was next-blindfolded to face the volley
Vera Lynn, Vera Lynn
Love will come of all our sins
Painted on my tail fin now

This old man persevered-in his mind he lay with Molly
Vera Lynn, Vera Lynn
Septicemia always wins
Cleanse us with your healing grin now

Coma high, coma low
Blood is precious, yes or no?

I believe in surgery-and that's a fact
I believe in making it easy
I believe in surgery, but I never act
I believe in making it easy
Easy...

Yip yip yip yip yip yip yip yip yip yip yip
Yip yip yip yip yip yip yip yip yip yip yip yip
Yip yip yip yip yip yip yip yip yip yip yip
Yip yip yip yip yip yip yip yip yip yip yip yip

This old man, he was gone-he was gone and I was sorry
Vera Lynn, Vera Lynn
Down I spiral, down I spin
Forces sweetheart, I'm your twin now

Yip yip yip yip yip yip yip yip yip yip yip
Yip yip yip yip yip yip yip yip yip yip yip yip
Yip yip yip yip yip yip yip yip yip yip yip
Yip yip yip yip yip yip yip yip yip yip yip yip

[jpgray]

7. I like Signed Curtain for lyrics

This is the first verse
This is the first verse
This is the first verse
This is the first verse...
And this is the chorus
Or perhaps it's a bridge
Or just another part
of the song that I'm singing

This is the second verse
Or it may be the last verse
This is the second verse
Or it may be the last one
And this is the chorus
Or perhaps it's a bridge
Or just another key change
Never mind
It doesn't hurt
It only means that I
lost faith in this song
'Cause it won't help me reach you...

[Rambis]

9. Picasso Moon: Robert Weir

Picasso Moon, shattered light
Diamond bullets ripping up the night
Picasso Moon, liberate me,
From the middle of eternity,
Something hooks her little finger at me,
An' it's bigger than a drive-in movie, ooooo-eeee.
Bigger than a drive-in movie, ooooo-eeee.
:toast:

[Rabrrrrrr]

10. Yes - Briefcase Boogie, the sine qua non of lyrics

HARRY: (to THING-FISH)
Anything you say, master! Take me, I'm yours!

RHONDA: (Broadway-style fake singing)
Jingle bells, Jingle bells,
Jingle all the way!
Oh, what fun it is to ride
To Chicago every day, oh...

THING-FISH:
Oooh, lawd! Lookit you, boy! Chain thoo de nipples 'n evvy goddam thing! You a sick white muthafucker, ain'tcha?

RHONDA:
Bells on bob-tail ring,
Making spirits bright!
Oh, what fun it is to ride
To Chicago every night, oh...

HARRY:
For Chrissake, RHONDA! Have you no SHAME?

THING-FISH:
Y'all make up y'mind yet, 'bouts de MAMMY o' yo' dreams?

HARRY:
You bet! I've waited ALL MY LIFE for this moment! My heart is fluttering! If only I could submit myself on approval, for a limited time only...to ...to that nasty little rubber MAMMY on your knee...

THING-FISH:
SISTER OB'DEWLLA 'X'? De mys'try SISTER? Y'all wants t'party hearty with de min'yature rubber MAMMY wit de string out de back? Yow! Dintcha get 'nuff 'buse fum de other bitch when y'was livin' in de card-bo'd hut?

RHONDA:
HARRY...HARRY...hey! HARRY! Fucking wor-r-r-mmmmmmmmmm! I want a DIVORCE, HARRY!

HARRY:
Not now, dearest, PLEASE! This is serious! Little MAMMY, what'll it be? Hips or lips?

HARRY snatches SISTER OB'DEWLLA 'X' away from THING-FISH, bashing himself with it in an irrational manner.

RHONDA un-zips the Santa Claus costume, revealing the rubber body suit, hoping for some sign of interest from her deranged husband. There isn't any...he's beating the fuck out of himself and loving every minute of it.

She squeezes her rubber tits, as if to squirt them at him. Still no interest.

RHONDA:
You're a wor-r-r-r-mmmmmmm! A fucking WOR-R-R-R-M-M-M-M-MMMMMMMMMMM! These are my TITS, HARRY! I have TITS! Look! LOOK AT ME! LOOK AT MY WONDERFUL TITS, YOU FUCKING WOR-R-R-R-R-MMMMMMMM! I'm going to pretend I'm SQUIRTING THEM ON YOU! Whoo! Wheeeee! ALMOST GOTCHA!

HARRY:
Not now, RHONDA! Ow! Oof! Oh, I love this! Hurt me! Hurt me! Oh, pull my chain, you tiny potato-headed whatchamacallit!

RHONDA:
They're almost squirting, HARRY! Look! Look! Whoooooo! Whooooo! Whoooo! You fucking worm!

THING-FISH:
OB'DEWLLA! Is y'awright? Don't be pullin' de boy's chain too hard dere! He gots 'nuthuh show t'do t'morrow! Don't put dat in yo' MOUF, girl! I knows y'cain hep y'seff wit dat crazy muthafucker 'busin' you like dat, but jes' hang on a lil' longuh...he be droppin' de wad putty soon now!

RHONDA: (pinching her nipples, jiggling her tits)
Jingle bells, jingle bells...

HARRY:
Oh! This is divine!

RHONDA:
This is my PUSSY, HARRY! Look! See it? You know what I'm gonna do with it, you worm? I'm gonna make it FUCK SOMETHING! That's right! You won't get any of it...because you're DISGUSTING! An' I don't need you, MR. FIRST-NIGHTER! My wonderful, wonderful pussy doesn't need you! I have my BRIEFCASE, HARRY! I'm going to FUCK MY BRIEFCASE! I'm going to...look! Look at this! I got it right over here! There! See it? My BIG, BROWN, BRIEFCASE! MY BRIEFCASE! It's BIG, HARRY! It's full of BUSINESS PAPERS...from MY CAREER!

A tan and brown briefcase, seven feet tall, is lowered in. FRANCESCO watches it land near his window. He exits the bungalow with a can of Crisco and a violin case. n pantomime, he cautiously interrupts RHONDA'S monologue, suggesting that she examine the contents of the case. It contains a strap-on dildo of such ridiculous proportions that a chain leading from just behind the head of it must be hooked to a leather dog collar around RHONDA'S neck, in order to hold it up. FRANCESCO recommends the Crisco as a lubricant, daubs on a bit with a miniature doll's foot, finally indicating that she conceal her pubic hair with a cardboard box, in the manner preferred by famous singing Christians.

RHONDA reaches inside the briefcase and locates her 'SPECIAL ATOMIC GLASSES' (with tiny doll arms reaching out through tiny cardboard boxes), and puts them on.

She reaches in again and finds an artificial hamburger with a red ribbon on it. She mounts it on top of her head, tying the ribbon in a neat bow below her chin. Ready at last, she humps the briefcase vigorously.

RHONDA: (contd.)
I'm gonna put my GLASSES ON, HARRY! I'm gonna put my hair up in a BUN! Then, I'm going FUCK FUCK FUCK! Ha-ha-ha-hahhhhh! Look! See me? See how I got my hair up? Whooo! I'm REALLY DOING IT! Unngh! Unngh!

HARRY:
RHONDA...have you no SHAME! Keep the briefcase closed, for chrissake! All your documents are falling out!

RHONDA: (as over-sized file folders emerge)
Unngh! I'm GOOD! Oh God I'm good! Harder! Faster! Unngh! Unngh! This is TERRIFIC! Boy, I need it so bad...

HARRY:
Those are the Warner Brothers files, aren't they dear? Don't you think there'll be some questions about the condition of the blue paper?

THING-FISH:
Girl! Bes' be careful wit de latch!

RHONDA: (with the handle in her mouth, semi-intelligible)
I'm sucking the handle now, HARRY! Look! Mmmmmm! It tastes GOOD! Mmmmmm! Mmmmmm! The handle! The handle!

HARRY:
Hurt me, OB'DEWLLA! Make me whimper and beg for your tiny rubber love!

After nibbling on it as if it were a giant piece of corn-on-the-cob, THING-FISH hands RHONDA an oversized pink fountain pen with her name on the clip.

RHONDA:
I've got a fountain pen, HARRY! I've got a fountain pen with MY INITIALS on it! I'm putting it in my mouth, HARRY! I'm gonna get it wet! I'm gonna stuff it up my asshole and ride the briefcase again, you disgusting perverted bastard worm! I'm gonna do it! Look, HARRY! Whooo! Unngh! Unngh! God-damit, HARRY! Watch me! This is for your own good!

[THUNDER HANDS]

14. damn

I've read books shorter than that!

[underpants]

11. Ooma-mow-mow, papa-ooma-mow-mow

A-well-a everybody's heard about the bird
B-b-b-bird, bird, bird, b-bird's the word
A-well-a bird, bird, bird, the bird is the word
A-well-a bird, bird, bird, well the bird is the word
A-well-a bird, bird, bird, b-bird's the word
A-well-a bird, bird, bird, well the bird is the word
A-well-a bird, bird, b-bird's the word
A-well-a bird, bird, bird, b-bird's the word
A-well-a bird, bird, bird, well the bird is the word
A-well-a bird, bird, b-bird's the word
A-well-a don't you know about the bird?
Well, everybody knows that the bird is the word!
A-well-a bird, bird, b-bird's the word
A-well-a...

A-well-a everybody's heard about the bird
Bird, bird, bird, b-bird's the word
A-well-a bird, bird, bird, b-bird's the word
A-well-a bird, bird, bird, b-bird's the word
A-well-a bird, bird, b-bird's the word
A-well-a bird, bird, bird, b-bird's the word
A-well-a bird, bird, bird, b-bird's the word
A-well-a bird, bird, bird, b-bird's the word
A-well-a bird, bird, bird, b-bird's the word
A-well-a don't you know about the bird?
Well, everybody's talking about the bird!
A-well-a bird, bird, b-bird's the word
A-well-a bird...

Surfin' bird
Bbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbb... ... aaah!

Pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-
Pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-ooma-mow-mow
Papa-ooma-mow-mow

Papa-ooma-mow-mow, papa-ooma-mow-mow
Papa-ooma-mow-mow, papa-ooma-mow-mow
Ooma-mow-mow, papa-ooma-mow-mow
Papa-ooma-mow-mow, papa-ooma-mow-mow
Papa-ooma-mow-mow, papa-ooma-mow-mow
Oom-oom-oom-oom-ooma-mow-mow
Papa-ooma-mow-mow, papa-oom-oom-oom
Oom-ooma-mow-mow, papa-ooma-mow-mow
Ooma-mow-mow, papa-ooma-mow-mow
Papa-a-mow-mow, papa-ooma-mow-mow
Papa-ooma-mow-mow, ooma-mow-mow
Papa-ooma-mow-mow, ooma-mow-mow
Papa-oom-oom-oom-oom-ooma-mow-mow
Oom-oom-oom-oom-ooma-mow-mow
Ooma-mow-mow, papa-ooma-mow-mow
Papa-ooma-mow-mow, ooma-mow-mow
Well don't you know about the bird?
Well, everybody knows that the bird is the word!
A-well-a bird, bird, b-bird's the word

Papa-ooma-mow-mow, papa-ooma-mow-mow

[Village Idiot]

15. The Trashmen ROCK!

[CO Liberal]

16. Yes - THIS!!!!!

Title: "It's Garry Shandling's Theme"
By: "Joey Carbone, Garry Shandling, and Alan Zweibel"

This is the theme to Garry's Show,
The theme to Garry's show.
Garry called me up and asked if I would right his theme song.
I'm almost halfway finished,
How do you like it so far?
How do you like the theme to Garry's Show?

This is the theme to Garry's Show,
The opening theme to Garry's show.
This is the music that you hear as you watch the credits.
We're almost to the part of where I start to whistle.
Then we'll watch "It's Garry Shandling's Show".

(whistling interlude)

This was the theme to Garry Shandling's show.

http://www.tvtome.com/tvtome/servlet/ShowMainServlet/showid-130/Its_Garry_Shandlings_Show/

[bobbobbins]

18. I see all that - and raise you a Nebraska....nuff said.

I saw her standin' on her front lawn just twirlin' her baton
Me and her went for a ride sir and ten innocent people died

From the town of Lincoln Nebraska with a sawed-off .410 on my lap
Through to the badlands of Wyoming I killed everything in my path

I can't say that I'm sorry for the things that we done
At least for a little while sir me and her we had us some fun

The jury brought in a guilty verdict and the judge he sentenced me to death
Midnight in a prison storeroom with leather straps across my chest

Sheriff when the man pulls that switch sir and snaps my poor neck back
You make sure my pretty baby is sittin' right there on my lap

They declared me unfit to live said into that great void my soul'd
be hurled
They wanted to know why I did what I did
Well sir I guess there's just a meanness in this world

[gratuitous]

19. Yup, Wonderin' Where the Lions Are

Seven verses, thick with meaning and subtlety, and perhaps even more relevant today than when it was written nearly a quarter century ago:

Sun's up, uh huh, looks okay
the world survives into another day
and i'm thinking about eternity
some kind of ecstasy got a hold on me.

I had another dream about lions at the door
they weren't half as frightening as they were before
but i'm thinking about eternity
some kind of ecstasy got a hold on me.

Walls windows trees, waves coming through
you be in me and i'll be in you
together in eternity
some kind of ecstasy got a hold on me

Up among the firs where it smells so sweet
or down in the valley where the river used to be
i got my mind on eternity
some kind of ecstasy got a hold on me
and i'm wondering where the lions are...
i'm wondering where the lions are...

Huge orange flying boat rises off a lake,
thousand-year-old petroglyphs doing a double take,
pointing a finger at eternity
i'm sitting in the middle of this ecstasy

Young men marching, helmets shining in the sun,
polished as precise like the brain behind the gun
(should be!) they got me thinking about eternity
some kind of ecstasy got a hold on me
and i'm wondering where the lions are...
i'm wondering where the lions are...

Freighters on the nod on the surface of the bay
One of these days we're going to sail away,
going to sail into eternity
some kind of ecstasy got a hold on me
and i'm wondering where the lions are...
i'm wondering where the lions are...

[errorbells]

20. Willie Dixon...anything he wrote

by
Willie Dixon

from Chess single
Well, I ain't superstitious, black cat just cross my trail
Well, I ain't superstitious, oh the black cat just cross my trail
Don't sweep me with no broom, I might get put in jail
When my right hand itches, I gets money for sure
When my right hand itches, I gets money for sure
But, when my left eye jumps, somebody's got to go
Well, I ain't superstitious, black cat just cross my trail
Well, I ain't superstitious, black cat just cross my trail
Don't sweep me with no broom, I just might get put in jail
Well, the dogs are howlin, all over the neighborhood
Whoa, the dogs are howlin, all over the neighborhood
That is true sign of death, baby, that ain't no good
Well, I'm not superstitious, blow that black cat across my trail
Well, I'm not superstitious, a black cat across my trail
Don't sweep me with no broom, I just might get put in jail
That's bad luck for me