songs that made this country great

Generated 2007/06/08 20:03:14

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Salesman
Lonely Town
Drive, She Said
Don't Box Me In
Can't Complain
Goin' Southbound
Ring Of Fire
Camouflage
Overlords
Lost Weekend
Cannon Song
The Big Heat
Peg And Pete And Me
Mexican Radio
I Wanna Be A Boss
Walkin' Home Alone
Footnotes

Now, I've been travelin' long and hard
And all over this big land
And I've got somethin' here in my bag
For every woman and man
And nowhere is too far
'Cause I cover a pretty wide base
From way down south to way up north
I'll shake hands with any friendly face

Chorus:
Salesman, salesman
Why don't you sell me somethin'
Salesman, salesman
Why don't you sell me somethin'

Now I've got a box in my hand
And I'm gonna travel that land
I'm a salesman for hire
And I never get tired
So just plug it in and it'll work
Don't worry about it breakin'
It's factory made and guaranteed
And we're not fakin'

Chorus repeat

Now, I keep bangin' on my case
And smilin' broad and make the deal
But sometimes my feet begin to shake
Like I'm slippin' on a banana peel
Stan slips about

And I've been everywhere around this world
I fly on the edge of the ball
I keep the numbers all up here
I just read the map and steer, that's all

Chorus repeat

Now I'll never give up this way of life
This life has called me to
I've gotta get to New Orleans by noon
If I can only find my shoe
'Cause I'm a salesman! Pleased to meetcha!

And I've seen the dirt and dust
Of a hundred towns like this
I just work my way on through
Sometimes it's just hit and miss
And I got a little something here in my bag
To help me burn the leaves
But I gotta watch it close this time
I know, because nothin' comes for free
No, nothin' comes for free

I know a little girl in Idaho
I guess I'll look her up now in a week or so
She was always good for a drink and a laugh
And what the traffic would allow

Chorus repeat

Everybody wants a real deal, everybody wants a real deal
Everybody wants a real deal, everybody wants a real deal

notes

When Stan performs this live, he sometimes adds an extra final verse: "I'm sick and tired / Of this rotten job / And I'm sick and tired / Of all these barbecues and eatin' corn on the cob"

credits

Written by: Stanard Ridgway
Published by: © Copyright 1986 Mondo Spartacus / Illegal Songs (administered by BMI)
Produced by: Mitchell Froom

performers

Louis Cabasa: bass
Richard Gibbs: emulator
Bill Noland: keyboards
Steve Reid: percussion
Stanard Ridgway: vocals, guitar, keyboards
Eric Williams: feedback guitar

They all say that it's a lonely town
They all say that it's a lonely town

Wide open spaces––empty rooms
If the weather holds out, you can get there by noon
Shadows crawl on the highway line
Don't rush, you've got time

Pull into a donut shop
And get a cup of mud
Ask for directions from a plumber outside
He says "don't go there, bud"

Chorus:
'Cause they all say
That it's a lonely town
And they all say
That it's a drag
And they all know
Those people in a lonely town
All those people are
Lonely and mad

Now I've got my foot on the gas
As I'm crossin the midwest county line
And I think about those mosquitos on my windshield
How they don't give a damn about Christmas-time

And as the passing trucks all flash their lights
Just as I top the hill
I'll remember two green eyes and some flowers
Dyin' on a windowsill

Chorus:
They all say
That it's a lonely town
And they all say
That it's a drag
They all know
Those people in a lonely town
And all those people
Are lonely and mad
They're just lonely and mad
Out here in a lonely town

credits

Written by: Stanard Ridgway
Published by: © Copyright 1989 Mondo Spartacus / Illegal Songs (administered by BMI)
Produced by: Joe Chiccarelli and Stanard Ridgway

performers

Joseph Berardi: drums
Joe Chemay: backing vocals
Jim Haas: backing vocals
Jon Joyce: backing vocals
Tim Landers: acoustic bass
Jim Lang: hammond organ, keyboards
Steve Reid: congas, percussion
Marc Ribot: additional electric guitar
Stanard Ridgway: vocals, harmonica, lead guitar
Eric Williams: acoustic guitar

Sittin' right behind me
I could smell her perfume
It was somethin' I'd smelled before
Went through a red light
While I spilled my drink
I could feel somethin' sticky on the floor

I said "Miss, you've gotta tell me
Where you wanna go to
I can't keep drivin' round the same block"
So I crumpled my cup
And pulled the gum off my shoe
And then she told me "Just shut up
And keep your eyes on the road"

Chorus:
"And just drive," she said
"Just drive," she said
"Just drive," she said

Well, I watched her put her hands
On the bag in her lap
While I scratched the bald spot on my head
I knew then that my cab was just
A getaway car
But I shut up and drove, like she said

I took a bite of my doughnut
And I offered her one
And I said "Lady, are you in a fix?"
Then she reached in her purse
And she pulled out a gun, and said
"Now just shut up, and keep your hands on the wheel"

Chorus repeat (Okay, okay!)

spoken
Then the moon disappeared, and it started to rain,
So I put the wipers on full.
And on the bag in her lap I saw the name of a big bank downtown.
And I said, "You don't have to worry about me, nope!"
When I turned the headlights on––just for a minute––
I thought I saw the both of us on some kinda tropical island someplace.
Walkin' down a white sandy beach.
Eatin' somethin'...

Chorus repeat

We pulled outta traffic
Down a dark side street
She was fixin' her hair in the mirror
I made a left turn
At a yellow light
Drove my cab fast towards the pier

She boarded the boat
And turned and blew me a kiss
And later on, when the squad car came 'round
I ate a handful of peanuts
And I told 'em this
"I don't rememeber much, except 'Just keep your hands on the wheel'"

Chorus repeat until fade

spoken:
Hey, hey, uh––
Hey, y'all, get outta my way!––all ya sunday drivers!
Hey, you want one of these, ah, Slim Jims? They're good!
What?––what? You don't––you don't want one?
Well they're 100% meat!

Haven't I seen you somewhere before?
I know, I know, Anchorage, that's where I seen ya, Anchorage.
Well, where you goin'?
I'm sorry, I don't go in that part of town anymore.
I don't need my windows washed.

credits

Written by: Stanard Ridgway
Published by: © Copyright 1986 Mondo Spartacus / Illegal Songs (administered by BMI)
Produced by: Hugh Jones

performers

K. K. Barett: drums
Tom Rechoin: percussion
Stanard Ridgway: vocals, harmonica, keyboards
Bill Noland: keyboards

You walk, I'll run
And follow right behind you
You call, I'll come
And I won't remember where I come from
Over there, at the end of the bar
This fish keeps swimmin' in a jar
I feel a tug on the line
Which end will I be on this time?

Chorus:
Don't box me in
Don't box me in
Don't box me in
Don't box me in

One day I'll show them
Just what I'm made of
There'll be a time
When I won't remember what I was afraid of
And I'll be swimmin' in the sea
No banging on this glass for me
My eyes turned red when my life turned blue
So I'm leaving everything, that's true
And I'll jump into
A brand new skin

Chorus:
And then you won't be able to box me in
Don't box me in
Don't box me in
Let go

There's a few places 'round
That I've never been
There's an ocean out there
That I gotta swim
There's a river that flows
Right past my door
I wonder
I wonder...
...what?

And if sometimes I can't seem to talk
You'll know this blackboard lacks a piece of chalk.

Chorus:
Don't box me in
I told you not to––don't box me in
Don't box me in
Don't box me in
Let go

credits

Written by: Stewart Copeland / Stanard Ridgway
Published by: © Copyright 1983 Regatta Music / Illegal Songs (administered by BMI)
Produced by: Stewart Copeland

performers

Stanard Ridgway: vocals, harmonica, keyboards
Stewart Copeland: all other instruments

"How you doin', Bert?" "Well, not so good, Charlie,
My back's gone out and I got my finger cut gnarly.
The job's the same, and so's the boss.
He's still a big ass, and my wallet got lost.
My wife's sick in bed, she says she'll never get well.
And all these kids today have gone to hell.
And all that government paperwork caught up with me––
Had to hire a beancounter for an outrageous fee.
And I don't know if the chicken or the egg is to blame
But all things considered, I guess I can't complain."

"Cheer up," Charlie said, "things could be worse."
"Well, yeah, I know, but did I tell ya that
My landlord's a cop? My neighbor's insane?
But all things considered, I guess I can't complain."

Chorus:
Out on the water
Where the sailing men all go
The water's high,
While all the fish swim low
Out on the water
Where the sailing men all go
The water's high,
While all the fish swim low

"You know what, Bert?" Charlie said, "You've got the wrong attitude.
Sometimes life's a big game, and the paths, you can choose.
Things may go wrong, but you've gotta stand tall."
"Well, I know," Bert said, "But well, that ain't all.
My hair's fallin' out. The roof leaks when it rains.
But all things considered, I guess I can't complain."

Chorus repeat

"You know what, Bert?" Charlie said, "You're a real loser.
So I'll see you next week––if you live 'til then."
As Bert walked out to the sidewalk, ten floors up
Two men lost control of a hoist at just the right time
And a big Steinway grand flattened Bert like a dime.
And as a crowd gathered 'round and asked, what was his name?
And could it be the chicken, or the egg to blame?
Well, the only thing heard was that he couldn't complain.

So if you're a loser in life, and your gun's outta ammo,
Just remember the story of Bert and the piano.
'Cause if you can't string the bow––and you're clean outta rosin¹
Someone may have planned for a music lesson.
Keep your eyes to the sky; it could be a brand name
And remember, all things considered, you really can't complain.

credits

Written by: Stanard Ridgway
Published by: © Copyright 1989 Mondo Spartacus / Illegal Songs (administered by BMI)
Produced by: Joe Chiccarelli and Stanard Ridgway

performers

Joseph Berardi: drums, marimba, congas
Larry Grennan: backing vocals, weights and pulleys
Ken Jones: additional tracking
John Porter: additional tracking
Stanard Ridgway: vocals, keyboards, piano accident
Bernard Sauser-Hall: keyboards
Pietra Wexstun: keyboards
Eric Williams: acoustic guitar, ukulele, poi

Tell not a word that you heard it here
But there's a big truck waitin' tonight at the pier
Comin' in on an east-bound boat
Now, don't be late for delivery––here, put this in your coat
It's a strange weight from an exotic locale
Don't worry about the cops, 'cause they're in on it, pal
Just pick it up no later than tonight at three o'clock
And bring it to the warehouse––here, put this in your sock

No one left to save you
Nobody will return
You run so fast, you catch on fire
You've just gotta burn
Yeah––

Chorus:
Goin' southbound
Follow that sound
Long line of cars
Just a-movin' out of town
You've got this job
But you don't know how
And everybody does
What nobody will allow

Full moon shines like a big cue ball
Someone fishin' on the pier, might as well stall
Repaint the car, change your license plate
How ya spell relief? Must be somethin' that you ate

All this is a secret
As common as that dirt
We'll rely on your expert eye
Here, put this in your shirt
Yeah––

Chorus repeat x2

And we'll all be waiting so long
Wait so long
We'll all be waiting so long
Wait so long, wait so long

Now if you get caught, don't tell 'em about me
The last one who did, well, we tied him to a tree
Out in the high desert, by an ant hill
Haven't been back there since––guess he's swingin' there still

All this is a secret
As common as that dirt
We'll rely on your expert eye
Here, put this in your shirt
Yeah––yeah! yeah! yeah!

Chorus repeat x2

Goin' southbound...
We're goin' southbound...
We're goin' southbound...
We're goin' southbound...

credits

Written by: Stanard Ridgway
Published by: © Copyright 1989 Mondo Spartacus / Illegal Songs (administered by BMI)
Produced by: Joe Chiccarelli and Stanard Ridgway

performers

Joseph Berardi: drums
Richard Greene: electric violin
Larry Grennan: backing vocals
Jim Lang: synth bass, keyboards, drum programming
Marc Ribot: additional electric guitar
Stanard Ridgway: vocals, "twang" guitar
Bernard Sauser-Hall: clavinet
Pietra Wexstun: additional keyboards
Eric Williams: electric and 12-string guitar

Love
Is a burnin' thing
And it makes
A fiery ring
I was bound by
Wild desire
I fell into a
Ring of fire

Chorus:
I fell into a burnin' ring of fire
I fell down, down, down, and the flames got higher
And it burns, burns, burns, the ring of fire
The ring of fire
The ring of fire

Chorus repeat

The taste
Of love is sweet
When hearts
Like ours meet
I fell for ya
Like a child
Oh
But the fire went wild

Chorus:
I fell into a burnin' ring of fire
I fell down, down, down, and the flames got higher
And it burns, burns, burns, the ring of fire
The ring of fire
The ring of fire
Yes––it burns, burns, burns, the ring of fire
The ring of fire
The ring of fire

credits

Written by: June Carter, Kilgore Merle
Published by: © Copyright 1962, 1963 Painted Desert Music Corporation (administered by BMI, copyright renewed)
Produced by: Jim Hill, Paul McKenna, and Wall Of Voodoo

performers

Chas Gray: synthesizer
Bruce Moreland: bass, piano
Marc Moreland: guitar
Joe Nanini: percussion
Stanard Ridgway: vocals, organ

I was a P.F.C. on a search patrol, huntin' Charlie down
It was in the jungle wars of '65
My weapon jammed and I got stuck way out and all alone
And I could hear the enemy movin' in close outside
Just then I heard a twig snap and I grabbed my empty gun
And I dug in scared while I counted down my fate
And then a big Marine––a giant, with a pair of friendly eyes––
Appeared there at my shoulder and said "Wait."

When he came in close beside me, he said "Don't worry, son, I'm here––
If Charlie wants to tangle now, he'll have two to dodge"
I said, "Well, thanks a lot!" I told him my name and asked him his
And he said "The boys just call me Camouflage"

Chorus:
Woah-oh-oh-oh, Camouflage
Things are never quite the way they seem
Woah-oh-oh-oh, Camouflage
I was awfully glad to see this big Marine

Well, I was gonna ask him where he came from, when we heard the bullets fly
Comin' through the brush, and all around our ears
It was then I saw this big Marine light a fire in his eye
And it was strange, but suddenly, I forgot my fears

Well, we fought all night, side by side, we took our battle stance
And I wondered how the bullets missed this man
'Cause they seemed to go right through him––just as if he wasn't there
And in the mornin' we both took a chance and ran
And it was near the riverbank when the ambush came on top of us
And I thought it was the end, and we were had
Then a bullet with my name on it came buzzin' through a bush
And that big Marine, he just swat it with his hand
Just like it was a fly...

Chorus:
Woah-oh-oh-oh, Camouflage
Things are never quite the way they seem
Woah-oh-oh-oh, Camouflage
This was an awfully strange (big) Marine

{spoken}
And I knew there was somethin' weird about him,
'Cause when I turned around,
He was pullin' a big palm tree up outta the ground
And swattin' those Charlies with it from here to kingdom come

When he led me outta danger I saw my camp and waved goodbye
He just winked at me from the jungle and then was gone
When I got back to my H.Q., I told 'em about my night
And the battle I'd spent with a big Marine named Camouflage
When I said his name, the soldier gulped, and a medic took my arm
And led me to a green tent on the right
He said "You may be tellin' true, boy, but this here is Camouflage
And he's been right here since he passed away last night
In fact, he's been here all week long...
But before he went, he said Semper Fi, and said his only wish
Was to save a young Marine caught in a barrage
So here, take his dog tag, son, I know he'd want you to have it now"
And we both said a prayer for a big Marine named Camouflage

Chorus repeat

So next time you're in a jungle fight, and you feel a presence near
Or hear a voice that in your mind will lodge
Just be thankful that you're not alone––you've got some company
From a big Marine the boys call Camouflage

Chorus repeat x2

Hup, hey-ho, hey, left... left...
Woah, woah, Camouflage
Hey, hey-ho, ho, left... left...
Woah, woah, Camouflage
repeat endlessly until fade...

credits

Written by: Stanard Ridgway
Published by: © Copyright 1986 Mondo Spartacus / Illegal Songs (administered by BMI)
Produced by: Louis Van Den Berg, Stanard Ridgway

performers

Chris Becerra: drums
Mark Cohen: banjo, mandolin
Mark Lewis: ghost platoon
Mark Morris: ghost platoon
Stanard Ridgway: vocals, guitars, keyboards
Louis Van Den Berg: keyboards

Well, I been breakin' rocks
Up on coolie number three
I know it's been forever
Thought you'd never hear from me
The weather here is rotten
Rainin' granite all the time
And both moons are glowin' purple
And there is no sun to shine

I keep diggin' deep down in a tunnel that goes
Twenty miles down
And I know my life is cheap
When I hear that rumblin' sound

Oh, the overlords
Got me workin' overtime
Oh, the overlords
No, they never make it rhyme

And there is somethin' in the air
That is burnin' in my throat
A big black cloud is passin'
Droppin' acid on my coat
Oh, the overlords
Got me workin' overtime

It's been ten years and a day
After World War Nine
They pushed us to make meaning
And from the meaning was our crime
Last night I had a dream––
When the guards all fell asleep
Oh, I jumped a fence outside this pen
And then I hot wired up the warden's jeep
And then I took a walk...

Chorus repeat

I still remember all the nights
We had together up on Mars
We both stood in line to get some new tattoos
While the kids got cut some scars
When they check the beds tonight
I'll leave a note scratched in the pine:
"You now can seek me underground
Where I'll be monkey-wrenchin' all the time"

Chorus repeat

From a planet out in space
A signal you could trace
Controlling what you feel
But you never see their face
Oh, the overlords
Got me workin' overtime
Oh, the overlords
Oh, the overlords
Oh, the overlords
Oh, the overlords
Yeah, the overlords
Yeah, the overlords

credits

Written by: Stanard Ridgway
Published by: © Copyright 1991 Mondo Spartacus / Illegal Songs (administered by BMI)
Produced by: Stanard Ridgway

performers

Joseph Berardi: percussion
Jim Hill: anvil, tunnel machine
Stanard Ridgway: vocals, guitar, keyboards
Elmo Smith: saxophone

Drivin' outta Vegas in their automobile
She was in the back seat while he was at the wheel
With the windows wide open

All the money from the store, they'd gambled away
He said "the best laid plans often go astray"

She took the page of a book and turned it down
She lit a cigarette, she didn't make a sound

"And I know, if we'd had just one more chance," he said
"I know, we'd finally hit the big one at last", she said

Chorus:
(Instead of) another lost weekend
Lost weekend
Another lost weekend
Lost weekend

"Pull over soon," she said, "it's no big deal,
You can take any exit that you happen to feel
Is the right one"
The right one

As she slowly blew her smoke out the rear wind vent
She thought back on all the letters she'd sent
For a contest to be on a quiz game show

"Maybe I shoulda stayed in school," he said
"Yeah, I know––start your own business cleanin' swimming pools," she said

Chorus repeat x2

She leaned over the front seat and twiddled with the radio dial
She looked out the window, saw a sign, and both of them began to smile
"There's a place we can stay at... it's up another mile."

credits

Composed by: Wall Of Voodoo
Published by: © Copyright 1983 Big Talk Music / Illegal Songs (administered by BMI)
Produced by: Richard Mazda

performers

Chas T. Gray: synthesizer, bass, backing vocals
Marc Moreland: six and twelve string guitars
Joe Nanini: percussion, drums, vocals
Stanard Ridgway: vocals, harmonica, keyboards

From The Threepenny Opera by Kurt Weill. Also known as Army Song. Commisioned for Lost In The Stars.

John was all present and Jim was all there
And Georgie was up for promotion
Not that the Army gave a bugger who they were
When confronting some heathen commotion

Chorus:
The troops live under
The cannon's thunder
From Sind to Cooch Behar
Moving from place to place
When they come face to face
With a different breed of fellow
Whose skins are black or yellow
They quick as winking chop him into
Beefsteak tartar

Johnny found his whiskey too warm
And Jimmy found the weather too balmy
But Georgie took them both by the arm
And said "Don't ever disappoint the army!"

Chorus repeat

John is a write-off and Jimmy is dead
And Georgie was shot for looting
And young men's blood goes on being red
And the army still goes on ahead recruiting

Chorus repeat

credits

Written by: Kurt Weill / Bertolt Brecht / Marc Blitzstein
Originally Published by: © Copyright 1928 Universal Edition
Published by: © Copyright 1955 WB Music Corp (copyright renewed and reassigned)
Produced by: Hal Wilner and Paul M. Young
Arrangement: Bruce Fowler

performers

Stanard Ridgway: vocals
The Fowler Brothers: brass, woodwinds, bass, percussion

The room was dark, it looked like someone had to get out fast
A window open by the fire escape
How long have you been following this guy, the bellboy asked
Not long enough, 'cause we got here too late
And everybody wants another piece of the pie today, he said
You gotta watch the ones who always keep their hands clean

Chorus:
It's the big heat, there's someone followin' you
It's the big heat, step aside, we're comin' through

Well, we followed him from Tuscon, ended up in Baton Rouge
We trailed him with information by
A woman he knew in Barstow that would like to see him dead
That was four weeks ago––well, maybe five
And everybody wants another piece of the pie today," she said
You gotta watch the ones who always keep their hands clean.

Chorus repeat x2

A block away he wondered if he'd left behind a clue
The front page of the paper dated 1992²
He remembered when he used to be the chairman of the board
But that was when the world was young and long before the war
And everybody wants another piece of the pie today, he said
You gotta watch the ones who keep their hands clean

Chorus repeat x2

credits

Written by: Stanard Ridgway
Published by: © Copyright 1986 Mondo Spartacus / Illegal Songs (administered by BMI)
Produced by: Hugh Jones

performers

Mr. Christopher: violin, cello
John Dentino: keyboards
Hugh Jones: keyboards
Bill Noland: keyboards
Stanard Ridgway: vocals, harmonica, keyboards
Bruce Zelesnik: drums

I can feel the life runnin' out of me
Workin' here at Pete's
Two years ago it was just the thing
Workin' cars part time every week
I met 'em both at a drag race
They both dressed pretty snappy that day
Pete's wife Peg, she put the make on me
While Pete just looked the other way

Now no one can say what your future may hold
Or what your life will have in store
We went home that night, Pete passed out on the couch
And then Peg pulled me down on the floor
Well, I know now she knew what she was doing
Forbidden fruit, but what the hell, I bit
That's all it took––my fate was sealed
That night the flame was lit

Chorus:
Every night when the lights go out
Pete drinks his booze and then he passes out
I hear a footstep outside my door
And then I remember what I started working here for
Peg and Pete and me
One and one and one make three
Peg and Pete and me
One and one and one make three
Now tell me what would you do
If you were in my shoes?

Tonight, Peg, we gotta stop this thing
I don't know if we can
Peg said, Don't worry, now, Pete's asleep
And I've got a certain plan
You know everything is in my name, she said
And anyway I love you so very much
He'll never feel a thing––just like he never woke up
And after that it'll just be us

Chorus repeat

The next morning, when I woke up
Peg was gone, the detective said
Son, you gotta come downtown with me
'Cause we know you killed Pete dead
The jury found me guilty
And sent me up for ninety-nine to life
And if there's any advice I can give from this cell
Never trust a rich dead man's wife

Chorus:
Peg and Pete and me
Peg and Pete and me
Peg and Pete and me
Peg and Pete and me

credits

Written by: Stanard Ridgway
Published by: © Copyright 1989 Mondo Spartacus / Illegal Songs (administered by BMI)
Produced by: Joe Chiccarelli and Stanard Ridgway

performers

Tori Amos: backing vocals
Gregg Arreguin: electric guitar
Joseph Berardi: drums and accordian
Phil Kenzie: saxophone
Tim Landers: fretless bass
Jim Lang: keyboards
Steve Reid: percussion
Stanard Ridgway: vocals, keyboards, harmonica, tin cup
Eric Williams: bouzouki, acoustic guitar
Pietra Wexstun: backing vocals

I feel a hot wind on my shoulder
And the touch of a world that is older
I turn the switch and check the number
I leave it on when in bed I slumber
I hear the rhythms of the music
I buy the product, and never use it
I hear the talking of the deejay
Can't understand––just what does he say?

Chorus:
I'm on a mexican radio
I'm on a mexican, woah-ho, radio

I dial it in and tune the station
They talk about the U.S. inflation
I understand just a little
No comprendé, it's a riddle

Chorus repeat x2

I wish I was in Tijuana
Eating barbecued iguana
I'd take requests on the telephone
I'm on a wavelength far from home
I feel a hot wind on my shoulder
I dial it in from south of the border
I hear the talking of the deejay
Can't understand––just what does he say?

Chorus repeat x4

Radio... radio...
Radio... radio.
Radio... radio...
Radio... radio.

Chorus repeat x4

Radio... radio...
Radio... radio.
(WHAT DOES HE SAY!)
Radio... radio. repeat until fade

notes

Sometimes Stan says "Oleo" instead of Radio. Oleo is slang for margarine. Wacky fun!

credits

Composed by: Wall Of Voodoo
Published by: © Copyright 1983 Big Talk Music / Illegal Songs (administered by BMI)
Produced by: Richard Mazda

performers

Chas T. Gray: synthesizer, bass, backing vocals
Marc Moreland: six and twelve string guitars
Joe Nanini: percussion, drums, vocals
Stanard Ridgway: vocals, harmonica, keyboards

Well, I've been doodling on this notepad
And I been taking telephone calls
I can tell this job's at the end of the line
And I'm ready for the fall
But I been watchin' the boss carefully
And he always seems to be havin' a ball
And then I scratch my head and wonder
Why I'm down here and he's up the hall

Now, all of my paychecks aren't worth
The paper they're printed on
I get 'em Friday
But Monday they're all gone
There must be some way to change my situation
It's time that I took up a brand new vocation

I wanna take a two-week vacation
Twenty-six times a year, add 'em up
When I fly to exotic places
My jet will be a Lear
I'll need several secretaries
Just to jot down notes
I'll wear Gucci loafers
And expensive shirts
And blue, executive, exotic coats

Chorus:
'Cause I, I said I wanna be a boss
(I wanna be, I wanna be)
I, I said I wanna be a boss
And I'll have people workin' under me
And this lousy job I'll toss
I, I said I wanna be a boss

Well, I'll drive in fancy cars
Well, no, maybe I'll just cruise
With a limo––and a chauffeur,
TV, telephone, and booze
Tinted windows so the common folk
Can't see me here inside
Maybe every now and then for fun
I'll give some old coot a ride

Then maybe I'll slip him
A thousand dollar bill
Then he'll smile and shake my hand
And I'll put him in my will
I'm gonna count up all my widgets
And digits, and all my stuff
I'll make millions in a day
But it'll never be enough
Nope––not enough!

Chorus:
'Cause I, I said I wanna be a boss
And I just wanna take a four-hour lunch
And eat a steak with A1 Sauce
I, I said I wanna be a boss
And I'll buy up every stock there is
From ITT to Doctor Ross
I, I said I wanna be a boss
(I wanna be, I wanna be)

Now if I find a product I like
I'll buy up the whole company
Shave my face, and grin and smile
And then I'll sell it on TV
And everyone will know me
I'll be more famous than Howard Hughes
I'll grow a long beard and watch
Ice Station Zebra in the nude

And grow my nails like Fu-Manchu
Keep a row of specimen jars
Get other people to work for me––well
Maybe I'll buy the planet Mars, and
Build an amusement park up there
Better than old Walt's place
You'll have to be a millionaire to go
We'll smoke cigars and lounge in lace
Talk the talk of businessmen
And bosses that we are
So here's to me––the drinks are free––
'Cause I just bought this bar

Yeah––yeah, I wanna be a boss
I wanna be a boss, boss, boss!
Some kinda intergalactic boss!

credits

Written by: Stanard Ridgway
Published by: © Copyright 1991 Mondo Spartacus / Illegal Songs (administered by BMI)
Produced by: Stanard Ridgway

performers

John Batdorf: background vocals
Joe Berardi: drums
Larry Grennan: background vocals
Stanard Ridgway: vocals, acoustic guitar, keyboards
Mark Shulz: electric guitar
David Sutton: bass
Pietra Wexstun: background vocals
Evon Williams: background vocals

Now there's last sunday's paper
Crumpled up and rollin' down the street
Away
And there's a piece of gum
Just waitin' for a ride on someone's feet
Today

Chorus:
And tonight I'll be walkin' home alone

Now, there's a million things I said
And twice as many that I didn't say
Yay-ay
And I remember an afternoon
A broken coffee cup, and some Broadway tune
And I shook her hand
And I said okay

And now as I stroll by some skinny dog
Left outside without a bone
Tonight, I'll be walkin' home alone

Chorus repeat

And ain't it funny how one afternoon
Can make two people stop and say
That all the time they spent together
Didn't really mean that much anyway... no, not much.
Just a sinkful of dirty dishes
And a picture in a drawer
And a hairbrush on the table
And a hole punched in a door
And if she were here right now
I'd tell her things I never told her before

So now I hear a clock and I get up fast
Draw the curtain on a brand new day
I can't wait to get this cast off
The telephone's dead––I guess they turned it off today
Turn the key on the mailbox slot
Lookin' for a letter, but bills is all I've got
And even the cat she left me with
Is goin' out with someone else

So put another quarter in the jukebox, Pete
But don't play that one with the sad trombone
'Cause tonight, I'll be walkin' home alone
And tonight, I'll be walkin' home alone
All alone
Walkin' home
All alone.

credits

Written by: Stanard Ridgway
Published by: © Copyright 1986 Mondo Spartacus / Illegal Songs (administered by BMI)
Produced by: Louis Van Den Berg, Stanard Ridgway

performers

Joseph Berardi: drums
Bruce Fowler: trombone
Stanard Ridgway: vocals, keyboards
Louis Van Den Berg: keyboards

1. Rosin, which rhymes with "pheasant", is what violinists use on their bowstrings to get the proper amount of friction.

2. Remember that this song was published in 1987––meaning that a paper published in 1992 would be some cool futuristic science-fictiony kind of idea. When Stan performed this song live in 1991, he changed the date to 2032 or some such. He's since changed it back to 1992, which I guess moves it from the realm of cool futuristic science-fiction to cool alternate history science-fiction.