Primus - Antipop
[Instrumental]
I am the plan, I am the man
who tells you what and when you can.
I'm the old one that torments you.
I am the voice that tells you to:
"Don't get caught with your fingers in my pie.
Mess with me and boy you're surely gonna' die.
If ever you're in doubt about who or where I am.
I'm here, I'm there, I'm everywhere.
I am your Uncle Sam."
Electric Uncle Sam
You beg me please on bended knees
not to sit among these enemies.
If you feel like you wanna dance
then step aside and take a chance.
"Don't get caught with your fingers in my pie.
Mess with me and boy you're surely gonna' die.
If ever you're in doubt about who or where I am.
I'm here, I'm there, I'm everywhere.
I am your Uncle Sam."
Electric Uncle Sam
There's a boy out 'luma way named Joe Eugene.
He's one mellow ass son of a bitch-a.
He loves his wheat grass and cold bean curd.
He's one healthy ass sone of a bitch-a.
But late at night he sneaks on down to the liquor store
for a bottle of sheep dip.
Natural Joe,
got an easy flow.
Whereever he goes
they say "here comes Joe."
Joe, he's a happy Man and he won't do you wrong.
He's one respectable son of a bitch-a.
Now Joe ain't no patriarch,
but he's smooth with the girls.
He ain't no cahuvinistic sone of a bitch-a.
But late at night he sneaks on down to the porno store
for a little bit of ...
Nature Joe,
he's hanging low.
Whereever he goes
they say "here comes Joe."
There's a boy out 'luma way named Joe Eugene.
He's one mellow ass son of a bitch-a.
He don't like firearms; he don't own knives.
He's one pacifistic sone of a bitch-a.
But late at night he eases on down to the video store
for a little bit of ...
Natural Joe,
got an easy flow.
Whereever he goes
they say "here comes Joe."
Natural Joe,
looking slow and low.
Look there he goes.
Go Natural Joe.
Sometimes bored and sometimes lonely
Pimple faced and rather homely
He wasn't much for socializin'
The TV kept a mesmerizin'
In one ear and out the other
Picked up a trick from his older brother
Got him a can of sniffin' sauce
Pinned his mind up on a cross
Lacquer head knows but one desire
Lacquer head sets his skull on fire
Lacquer head knows no in betweens
Huffin' on bags of gasoline
Sniffin' paint since the seventh grade
She was high on gin and gatorade
On turpentine she lost her luck
Fell in front of a speeding pick-up truck
He was a boy of soft demeanor
And he loved his carburetor cleaner
The vapor made a sweet aroma
He sniffed himself into a coma
Lacquer head feeds his one desire
Lacquer head sets his brain on fire
Lacquer head knows no in betweens
Huffin' on bags of gasoline
Keep on sniffin' till yer brain goes pop
The Earth it did crack open
on the day that I was born
and a thousand merry pranksters
came dancin' through the storm.
I lay cradle bound
a howlin' out my mind
not knowin' years to come
I'd be shoutin' over din
I sucked information through the holes in my skull
as my belly gurgles hungry my mouth is always full.
I am Antipop; I'll run against the grain till the day I drop.
I am the Antipop; the man you cannot stop.
As a young man,
I plug into the tube,
but the stench of all that pretense
I cannot muddle through.
I lay on my back
and scan the radio
all that comes out my speakers
is a steady syrup flow.
I suck information through the holes in my skull
as my belly gurgles hungry my mouth is always full.
I stood by watching
and I seen 'em come and go.
I seen 'em make that million
then vanish in the snow.
They come upon you
like a pack of rabid hounds
as they slobber in your ears
and purge you with their sounds.
Pushing misinformation through the holes in my skull
my belly gurgles nauseous and still my mouth is full.
I am Antipop; I'll run against the grain till the day I drop.
I am the Antipop; the man you cannot stop.
Part I - Blinded by the Sun
Bring me back again,
I'd really rather not be out here on my own.
Someone reel me in,
I'm drifting ever farther from my home.
I remember when I was a baby
gazing in amazement at the sky.
Sing it twinkle twinkle little baby
daddy's gonna learn you to fly...
high...
like a coment through the sky.
Bring me back again,
I'd really rather not be out here on my own.
I'm drifting with the wind,
trying to hold the course that I've been shown.
I remember when I was a baby
staring in amazement at the sun.
Better shield your eyes now little baby
no one ever said you were the one;
no one ever said you were the one
who can't be blinded by the sun.
I think I'm blinded by the sun.
Part II - Sanity is Coming to Town
I like to taunt, I like to tease.
I'll bring your psyche to its knees.
Juggling.
Sanity is coming to your town.
Who gives a damn what you say,
you're pissing all your dreams away.
Juggling.
Sanity is coming to your town.
Part III - Pressing Onward Towards the Light
Pressing onward through the night.
Pressing onward towards the light.
Slice me up a big slab of that sympathetic cheer.
If I'm zapped with radiation they say I'll last another year.
Line 'em up now to greet the sacred cow.
My hands are full of protein, my arms are made of fire.
If you're calling me a diplomat, I'll be calling you a liar.
Line 'em up now to greet the sacred cow.
Line 'em up now to greet the sacred cow.
The best of times, the worst of times,
the times you can't ignore.
Sometimes you bite the bullet
and flip flop on the floor.
They tell you where to go,
and they tell you what to do.
They set your face on fire
then stomp it out with their shoes.
I ain't no fool.
Mama didn't raise no fool.
The times I can't complain
are the times I do the most.
On a diet of black coffee
and prozac buttered toast.
These eunuchs in their prada
and Gucci flavored clothes.
Wouldn't know a fresh perspective
if it bit 'em up on the nose.
I ain't no fool.
Mama didn't raise no fool.
Don't do as they say,
just say as they do.
No flavor's quite so bitter
as the taste of one's own shoe.
I ain't no fool.
Mama didn't raise no fool.
I'm a dog, a dirty flying dog.
I drink Campari with marinated wild hog.
I've no sense, I like electric fence.
I put barbed wire in my pants and do a celtic dance.
But when I can, I'm a giving man.
I'll flip you out the fire and back up into the frying pan.
And if you're down looking like you're gonna drown.
Of all your friends I'm the one who's most apt to stick around.
I'm a drowning man.
Who will save this drowning man.
Who will save this drowning man.
Who will save this dirty drowning man.
You're so fine, so bright and shiney fine.
And I'm so proud to say that you in fact are a friend of mine.
And doubly pleased with crooked wobbly knees.
I dive on in and backstroke right across these seas of cheese.
But on the times when I'm not such a giving man.
Please flip me out of the fire and backup into the frying pan.
And if you're down looking like you're gonna drown.
Of all your friends I'm the one who's most apt to stick around.
I'm a drowning man.
Who will save this drowning man.
Who will save this drowning man.
Who will save this dirty drowning man.
Bodacious am a whole lotta' bull
over nineteen hundred pounds.
He's born in Galry, Oklahoma
and he's the baddest sonsabitch around
if a Burma bull ever were a super star
then Bodacious just might be.
He's a cream colored, beefy brawn,
full-fledged, four footed bovine celebrity.
Who's gonna ride Bodacious?
Who's gonna tame him down?
Look out for Bodacious,
he's bound to hold his ground.
Here comes Bodacious,
ya'll just step aside.
Big and bad Bodacious
takes a toll from those who ride.
Young Bo met a man named Tuff Hedeman
at the start of his buckin' spree
and Tuff became one of the few to make the whistle
bkac in Nineteen Ninety Three.
Tuff tried to ride Bo again at the finals
in Nineteen Ninety Five.
Bodacious had got a little older and wiser
Tuff barely came out alive.
Military show is Blastin' off to Kosovo.
Military show with lightning speed.
Sensitivity? Oh, just a rusty nail in the corporate show.
How many stabs before we bleed?
Those Pinocchios chattering out in stereo,
boy Pinnocchio and his golden deed.
Masculinity? Oh, galvanized in the world wide show
as we fertilise the seed.
Power mad, I didn't chop the tree down dad
I only try to do what's right.
Power man, the best friend that you ever had
unless of course you choose to fight.
Power mad, driving out of the shadows,
he never tires when he plays.
Power mad, he's a streak in the night time
speculating how he'll take on the world some day.
Originality? Oh, just a rusty nail in a Broadway show
how many stabs before we succeed.
Power mad, I didn't drop my pants down dad,
I know my left hand from my right.
Power man, the best friend that you ever had
unless of course you lose the fight.
I been fightin' gravity since I was two.
Questers of the prize
blind men int he snow.
Some streak the skies
I choose to go below.
Skin moves towards malignant
worshipping the sun.
They clamber over corpses
to be the chosen ones.
Drift along liquid sky.
Descending through the darkness
to the vast terrain.
Down here on the bottom
you rarely hear the rain.
Drift along liquid sky.
He wasn't lookin' for fanfare or fame
but it all came around just the same.
He then met a girl with desire in her eye,
he gave her love, she took his name.
The times they were good, the times they were bad,
most times it was just in between.
The hard pill he swallowed was the times that they had,
she put on display for all to be seen.
Some find their solace in work or the lord,
she was quite content in her dream.
When his eyes they burned from the bright lime light,
he found comfort in the bottle of Ol' Jimmy Beam.
One day from the depths of his deep darkened hole,
he reached out for something to feel.
She offered back nothin' but lack of respect
so he left himself out with two barrels of steel.
She cried in the day, she cried in the night.
She cried loudest when someone was near.
Whether crying for him or she cried for herself,
the bigger the camera, the bigger the tear.
Most folks agree that she was living a hell
and publicly she showed her pain.
And never once was there a thought for herself,
and the ever-growing slices of fortune and fame.
Now on the coattails of a dead man she'll ride
on the coattails of a dead man she'll ride.
On the coattails of a dead man she'll ride she'll ride,
on the coattails of a dead man she'll ride she'll ride high.
Through the door it slithers in,
Accompanied by its peers.
Always groveling for attention,
While no one really hears.
In its mind it's full of wit
And quite the social king.
It plants itself among the rest,
to give its deadly sting.
It's just a matter of opinion.
Further now there's a man of taste.
Of talent and precision.
To work and strive at his artform.
Has been his life's decision.
The stage is set. The perfect show
Is put before the mass.
Only to be ridiculed
by some slimy, pompous ass.
It's just a matter of opinion.
Electric Uncle Sam, Mama Didn't Raise No Fool, and Power Mad produced
with Tom Morello. Natural Joe produced with Matt Stone. Laquer Head
produced with Fred Durst. Dirty Drowning Man produced with Stewart
Copeland. Coattails of a Dead Man produced with Tom Waits.
The Cheesy Primus Page ||
Ram Samudrala ||
me@ram.org