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Back Towards Diamond Bar
Police Call
New Blue Mercedes
Bel Air Blues
Hell In A Handbasket
Highway Song
Mr. Smith
Time Wave Zero
Old Bent Coin
My Exclusive Sex Club
Triangle Head
Big American Problem
Footnotes
A yellow moon hung low in the sky
The snake will crawl, the raven fly
And guilty hands will grip the wheel
Keep on the road, no skid or peel
And then I drove right down the road
I saw myself in a cloud of dust
I wanna drive, I wanna drive
With a trunkload of sin
I don't know the mess I'm in
The mess I'm inI wanna fly high in the sky
Look right into the red bird's eye
I'm goin' east, I'm flyin' west
North and southyou take the test
In a rear view mirrorcheck for « red and tin »
I don't know the mess I'm in
The mess I'm inI got a trunkload a' trash and tar
And I've been drivin' down that road
Back towards Diamond Bar
Diamond Bar...
Diamond Bar...
Diamond Bar...
The lyrics to this song have not been published; they were transcribed by Larry Hastings.
Written by: Stanard Ridgway
Published by: © Copyright 1995 Mondo Spartacus / Illegal Songs (administered by BMI)
Produced by: Stanard Ridgway and Drywall
Ivan Knight: Drums, percussion
Stanard Ridgway: vocals, guitar, theater organ
Pietra Wexstun: keyboards, vocals
Drivin' on down, take the road to the south side
Radio for backup, Code 2, say it's caution time
I found the body, deep square in a world of crime
Streets are wet with rain, wash away and blur my thin blue lineChorus:
Think I'll make a police call
No one knows, no one cares at all
Think I'll make a police callBreakin' up a sex club, Pelican and Jacko
Tappin' telephones butt-naked with your Hollywood ho
Crawl back in my Chevy, call dispatch and hit the party light
Bust 'em up with billy clubs, go home and light my crack pipeChorus repeat x2
Breakin' down a door somehwere way out in Diamond Bar
Hangin' at the roadblock, shootin' at a passin' car
Goin' undercover, bustin' heads at the Sugar Shack.
Gimme gimme drugs. Gimme crack, gimme Prozac...
The printed lyrics in The Drywall Project contain an extra stanza that does not appear in the final mix of the song: "Hit the siren screamin' "Somebody call the K-9 core." / Lock 'em in a cage, cuff 'em up, and then they kick out the door / You callin' up Spillane, Ellroy, and Joseph Wambaugh / but you nothin' but a butcher. Nothin' but a dead cop..."
Lyrics by: Stanard Ridgway
Music by: Stanard Ridgway and Pietra Wexstun
Published by: © Copyright 1994 Mondo Spartacus / Illegal Songs / Queenie Pie (administered by BMI)
Produced by: Stanard Ridgway and Drywall
Ivan Knight: Drums, percussion
Stanard Ridgway: vocals, guitar, theater organ
Pietra Wexstun: keyboards, vocals
She knew when she got pregnant she could finally catch a man to bring the money home
Blessed with no ambition, she was tired of selling sex on the telephone
The father of her unborn child worked at night, with two guys in a Chrysler van
Breakin' into cars and stealin' radios, and sellin' 'em through some fencing scamChorus:
We are takin' back America, he said, as he popped out the ignition lock
on a new blue Mercedes in an underground parking lot
Rich people got the money, we got nothin' but these big swingin' balls between our legs
Gonna take back America, gonna take our share, no we ain't gonna begStandin' in the schoolyard, he knew there was trouble when he heard the shots ring out
Turnin' towards the corner he could hear the car approaching and someone shout
From the side window, there's a flash, and he could feel the bullet go deep into his back
And as he fell to the ground, the last thing he said was small fries, and a Big MacChorus repeat
Round the south bay near the airport, in a back garage behind a convenience store
There's a meeting going on with some people who ain't gonna take it anymore
And in the west side of the city in a chic Italian restaurant, some people sit outside in the sun
Some talk about the weather, some talk about the earthquake, most talk about some mutual fund...
Written by: Stanard Ridgway
Published by: © Copyright 1995 Mondo Spartacus / Illegal Songs (administered by BMI)
Produced by: Stanard Ridgway and Drywall
Ivan Knight: Drums, percussion
Stanard Ridgway: vocals, guitar, theater organ
Pietra Wexstun: keyboards, vocals
Runnin' down a purple shallow, goin' down somewhere
Goin' down the alleyway, lookin' for a dead dog with a custard pie
I am looking for a dildo in the sky
And if I find it soon, I think I'll call the Menendez boysChorus:
Think I'll call the Menendez boysTurnin' on the TV sethypnotic neon queen
Rollin' underwater in a green narcotic dream
Buy a big baseball bat, then call up the Rubberman
« In plastic frown, » blow up this town, think I'll call the Menendez boysChorus repeat x3
Coolin' out at Big 51, got a sleepin' bag and a new canteen
Shave my body of every hairrub me down with amphetamine
Jump back in my railpunchin' it I got spooked2
Remove tattoos, the Bel Air bluesthink I'll call the Menendez boysChorus repeat
Livin' on a crooked roadlike a dust bowl refugee
Crawlin' on the freewaycleanin' my teeth with a barbecue comb
You can call me Sam, or you can bark my hole
And you can use my dick for a walkin' poleCelebrity has his wakea boomer red moustache
An angle slide in BaltimoreTop 40 pederast
Everybody got another 'nother plan
Everybody got another 'nother land
Never never never never never never never!
Never never never!Chorus repeat x4
The lyrics to this song have not been published; they were transcribed by Larry Hastings.
Written by: Stanard Ridgway
Published by: © Copyright 1995 Mondo Spartacus / Illegal Songs (administered by BMI)
Produced by: Stanard Ridgway and Drywall
Ivan Knight: Drums, percussion
Stanard Ridgway: vocals, guitar, theater organ
Pietra Wexstun: keyboards, vocals
I think we're all going to hell in a handbasket. x9
The lyrics to this song have not been published; they were transcribed by Larry Hastings.
Lyrics by: Stanard Ridgway
Music by: Stanard Ridgway and Pietra Wexstun
Published by: © Copyright 1994 Mondo Spartacus / Illegal Songs / Queenie Pie (administered by BMI)
Produced by: Stanard Ridgway and Drywall
Ivan Knight: Drums, percussion
Stanard Ridgway: vocals, guitar, theater organ
Pietra Wexstun: keyboards, vocals
Everybody knows a highway song
Sing it with me peopleit won't be long
Underneath the stars, the devil you say
What you can't sing now, you better throw awayChorus:
I sing a-la-la-la-la-lalalala
And everybody knows how to sing a highway songLike a needle in a haystack, I've been searchin' round
I got a bluesteel gun, and an old bloodhound
Slept in a hollow log, make some porcupine wine
The highwayman tells me to walk this timeNow everybody here knows a highway song
Sing it loud, now, I've been singin' so long
Sing a-la-la-la-la-lalalala
And everybody knows how to sing a highway song« Smoke that wood! »
I'm screamin' down the road, my brain on fire
I'm lookin' for the scarecrow with a tractor tire
« I've got myself in dust with a TV eye
And nobody knows but the media guy »Chorus repeat
Let's hit the highway
Ah-wooooo!
The lyrics to this song have not been published; they were transcribed by Larry Hastings.
Written by: Stanard Ridgway
Published by: © Copyright 1995 Mondo Spartacus / Illegal Songs (administered by BMI)
Produced by: Stanard Ridgway and Drywall
Ivan Knight: Drums, percussion
Stanard Ridgway: vocals, guitar, theater organ
Pietra Wexstun: keyboards, vocals
Can I get a light from you, Mr. Smith?
And do you know where the party is?
I've been walking a blue streak all night long
And I'm tired of looking for a place to pissCan you tell me about yourself, Mr. Smith?
Yeah, me, you can read like an open book
I don't hide myself like some other people do
When there's gristle in the meat, I just swallow and chewChorus:
Pleased to meet you, Mr. Smith,
(And) do you know where the party is?
Pleased to meet you, Mr. Smith,
(And) do you know where the party is?Cast your eyes around, Mr. Smith
Do you see that dog lying in the road?
Coughin' up stuff from a pigeon that died
Hit an eighteen wheeler on the 405Chorus repeat
Do you know this neighborhood, Mr. Smith?
Used to be someplace, sometime, somewhere
People built it up from the dirt and dust,
Loanin' out money from an Eastern trustChorus repeat x2
The lyrics to this song have not been published; they were transcribed by Larry Hastings.
Lyrics by: Stanard Ridgway
Music by: Stanard Ridgway and Pietra Wexstun
Published by: © Copyright 1994 Mondo Spartacus / Illegal Songs / Queenie Pie (administered by BMI)
Produced by: Stanard Ridgway and Drywall
Ivan Knight: Drums, percussion
Stanard Ridgway: vocals, guitar, theater organ
Pietra Wexstun: keyboards, vocals
Low vibration of the human skull
Clean the cobwebs from my head
Twisted ribbon of my DNA
It's like the spaceman said
A million miles from reality, that's where
« The line will form a hero »
Where dimensions sleep and dreams collideChorus:
Take us all down in time wave zero
Time wave zero
Time wave zero
Time wave zeroThe end of history today
« See the ships spinnin' round the phone
Braniac trust in a garden of goons »
I'm feelin' dizzy like I lost my way
Take me now to the planet of gray
Planet of gray
Please be « solid (sorry?) »don't wanna be no heroChorus repeat
I've seen the eyes of Ant Man Bee3
They laugh and chuckle while attending me
« Read my fungus » from the days of Nero
Fiddle while Rome burnedChorus repeat
Where the end of the world collides
And the food keeps comin' down
And everybody knows the rug
That's coverin' the ground
Monkey man knows what he's shuckin
The lyrics to this song have not been published; they were transcribed by Larry Hastings.
Lyrics by: Stanard Ridgway
Music by: Stanard Ridgway and Pietra Wexstun
Published by: © Copyright 1994 Mondo Spartacus / Illegal Songs / Queenie Pie (administered by BMI)
Produced by: Stanard Ridgway and Drywall
Ivan Knight: drums, percussion
Stanard Ridgway: vocals, guitar, theater organ
Pietra Wexstun: keyboards, vocals
Sometimes I feel like an old bent coin
Comin' on down the road
I'm just a face in the crowd, stuck in the cheap seats
Waitin' for Lady Luck to show
Dealer! Dealer! Deal me a hand
Not like the one you just threw
I'm goin' down to my last dollar tonight
And if you make me a winner, I'll split it with you
I'll split it with you
And I'm torn like a sail on a ship
Caught in low tide
And I'm waitin' for a card that'll tell me
Let it ride
Let it ride
Let it ride
The lyrics to this song have not been published; they were transcribed by Larry Hastings.
Written by: Stanard Ridgway
Published by: © Copyright 1995 Mondo Spartacus / Illegal Songs (administered by BMI)
Produced by: Stanard Ridgway and Drywall
Ivan Knight: drums, percussion
Stanard Ridgway: vocals, guitar, theater organ
Pietra Wexstun: keyboards, vocals
Kind ladies and good gentlemen
You've thrown your dollar down
Walk in and please experience
Feel free to stroll around
We take it to the limit
The competition's fierce
Big Judy at the table here
Will help you with your pierceChorus:
And when it's done,
Jack will show you to the door
Or have you seen this before?
Or have you seen this before?We've got everything in bottles
Stored in formaldehyde
For a dollar you can climb on that guy
Take him for a ride
Now do you want a leash,
Or a collar, or a whip?
And have you tasted this?
Well, everybody's had a sipChorus repeat
Now there's a man
He's hangin' from a hook
The lady with tattoos just looks like
A coloring book
Our club is like no other
We've got a big surprise
Tonight a man will bake a dog
And put it in a pie
And when the pie is open
The dog begins to sing
And Judy will administer
That party favor thing
Now everything is hot
And everything is fine
We never close the place
Because the cops are now in lineChorus repeat
The lyrics to this song have not been published; they were transcribed by Larry Hastings.
Written by: Stanard Ridgway
Published by: © Copyright 1995 Mondo Spartacus / Illegal Songs (administered by BMI)
Produced by: Stanard Ridgway and Drywall
Ivan Knight: drums, percussion
Stanard Ridgway: vocals, guitar, theater organ
Pietra Wexstun: keyboards, vocals
Now, south of Drag-strip Hollow
Right past Deadman's Curve
There's a message in a bottle
It's a scandal, have you heardNow, the bishop's wife just closed the door
The birds don't fly there anymore
And the whole town is talking
The whole town is talking
Triangle headHe sets a big steel trap
He'll find you out with a secret map
He's a phantom spook and he drinks pink champagne
He lives at the end of a cul-de-sac
He got a crossbow with a hairpin sight
Targets change from night to night
So when you hit his big blockade
Into his muddy water you will wadeThey call him Triangle Head
He got three ways to go
One's just past the hairpin turn
The rest are down below
Triangle HeadHe's got a wide-brim hatin his hand there's a hole
He uses his dick for a walkin' pole
He walks a big black dog with a collar of spikes
He wears a belt of skin from a killin' last night
They call him Triangle HeadTriangle Head
He got three ways to go
One's just past the hairpin turn
The other is down below4
Triangle Head
He knows just what to do
Triangle Head
The rest is up to you
Triangle Head
The lyrics to this song have not been published; they were transcribed by Larry Hastings.
Written by: Stanard Ridgway
Published by: © Copyright 1995 Mondo Spartacus / Illegal Songs (administered by BMI)
Produced by: Stanard Ridgway and Drywall
Ivan Knight: drums, percussion
Stanard Ridgway: vocals, guitar, theater organ
Pietra Wexstun: keyboards, vocals
Chorus:
I've got a big American problem
Somethin' that I cannot solve by myself
I've got a big American problem
Somethin' that I need some help from the shelfWay down in Somalia
Where the starving children play
Where our soldiers are sittin' around
Wonderin' just what to do with the day
There are many people in the hills
And the hills have eyes
There is someone that waits for me
Like a spider waits for a flyChorus:
I've got a big American problem
Somethin' that I cannot solve by myself
I've got a big American problem
Somethin' that I better take off the shelfIn Sarajevo, there's lots of people standin'
Standin' there in the street, waitin' for you
Someone's comin' down to give them the answers
« And if they'd know just what they don't want to do »Chorus:
I've got a big American problem
Somethin' that I cannot solve by myself
I've got a big American problem
« We'd better take that book from the shelf »Have you got a big American problem too?
Somethin' that you cannot solve by yourself
Have you got a big American problem too?
Somethin' that you cannot solve by yourself?I've got a big American problem (x4)
A problem! Problem! Problem! A problem! A problem!
The lyrics to this song have not been published; they were transcribed by Larry Hastings.
Written by: Stanard Ridgway
Published by: © Copyright 1995 Mondo Spartacus / Illegal Songs (administered by BMI)
Produced by: Stanard Ridgway and Drywall
Ivan Knight: drums, percussion
Stanard Ridgway: vocals, guitar, theater organ
Pietra Wexstun: keyboards, vocals