Get all 37 Steve Goodie releases available on Bandcamp and save 30%.
Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality downloads of How 'Bout Another (Bunch Of) Dumb Song(s) From Steve For No Reason?, AL! The Weird Al Tribute and How Daniel Radcliffe Got Mixed Up in All This Nonsense, Top Ten Songs That Steve Has Come Up With Since His Last CD (plus 6 more!), What I Did Over My Pandemic Vacation, A Kvetchmas Carol, Admit You've Got a Bald Spot, Vampire's Ball: Ultimate Halloween Party, I Am Terribly Important, and 29 more.
1. |
Dr. Demento Intro
00:08
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2. |
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Well, if you want to say damn, say damn
And if you want to say hell, say hell
Cause if you say darn or H.E. Double-Hockey-Sticks or dang
It means the same thang (and we know what you're thinking, shithead)
And if you want to say goddammit, say goddammit (goddammit)
And if you want to say motherfucker, say motherfucker (motherfucker)
Cause if you say doggonnit or dagnabbit or mary mother of god
You know what you are (you're a dork, at best, or a damn hypocrite, at worst)
You can censor yourself
And think you won't go to hell
But if intent is a sin
You're fucked before you begin
You're going down anyway
You may as well mean what you say
Straight down, it's the thought
That's what counts, dude you're caught
It's all mind control
Well if you want to say fuck, say fuck
And if you want to say cunt, say cunt
You're free to say what you want
So don't be a… p-p-p--- birth canal (they actually call it that!)
If you want to say poop, say poop
But if you want to say shit, say shit
You'll offend someone irregardless
You know that you will (with your pathetic stupid grammar, if nothing else)
We can say what we want
That's why we live in this cunt-try
You're offended by this song (I can tell)
But hey you've listened this long
And for that you're going to hell
Is that brimstone I smell
Oh geez, ah ah ah
It's all hooey, ah ah ah
Go back to playing farmville (you braindead waste of millions of years of evolution)
If you want to say goddam motherfucking shit on a stick
Then say goddam motherfucking shit on a stick
You'll feel better if you just do it
You know that you will
You know that you will
You're going to hell
You know that you will
Go to hell
So you might as well
Say what you fucking mean
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3. |
What's in My Hotdog?
02:07
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No one seems to know, no one seems to know, no one seems to want to know…
But I want to know, I got to know, oh I need to know… what's in my hotdog
What's in my hotdog, what's in my hotdog, what's in my hotdog
No one wants to know
There's earlobes eyelids, elbows and fingertips
Dog nose, pig glands, frog bits, and chicken lips
Hog butts, peanuts, cow guts, brains…
Toe jam, turkey spam, vericose veins
What's in my hotdog, what's in my hotdog, what's in my hotdog
No one wants to know
What's in my hotdog, what's in my hotdog, what's in my hotdog
No one wants to know
There's moose colon, horse bladder, anything that makes a splatter
Half ton of puppy tongues, bucketful of camel lungs
Big hairy goat tails, dirty donkey toenails
Stuffed into an fabulous, edibile, delectable, deep-fried, something died… intestinal shell…
Intestinal shell…
Now I know…
What's in my hotdog, what's in my hotdog, what's in my hotdog
I was better off not knowing
Now chunks I will be blowing
And cookies I'll be throwing
My insides will be showing
I guess I really didn't need to know…
What's in my hotdog
What's in my hotdog
What's in my hotdog
I think I got a fever
I'm feeling kind of strange
My head feels like a whoopie cushion
My hands are a little clammy
I really want to die
Uh, maybe we should take you to the hotdog factory…
You could be the secret ingredient…
Yeah!
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4. |
Before He Tweets
03:19
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Right now, the congressman is sending out some pics to some chicks, but there's collateral damage
Right now, constituents are seeing all his sweet little tweets about his stimulus package
Right now, he's going deep on the issues with a fine citizen who just happens to shoot porno
Like we don't know
But now it's looking like Weiner might get the shaft
He's been taking it hard, but the press just laughed
Right-wingers, tea-baggers, and the liberal elites
They say the beltway bugger got his ego stroked
If you friend him on Facebook you might get poked
Maybe next time he'll think before he tweets
Right now, the whole world is trick-or-tweeting screen grabs of some abs and a tumescent Weiner
Right now, he's probably texting that he wants to pat you down like a TSA screener
Right now, he says he's never seen 'er, and there ain't no misdemeanor 'cause he didn't Charlie Sheen 'er
But now he's gonna come clean (-er)
'Cause he wants to hold your congressional seat
He's the other white meat, the kind that can't be beat
It's a 21st century Lewinsky legacy
He keeps his budgetary tool there in his lap
He's ready to bridge your partisan gap
Maybe next time he'll think before he tweets
Was she a campaign donor, a Seattle Washington-er
Seems when he tried to phone 'er, he said, hi, this is John... Boehner
(wait wait, don't hang up... hold on... wait! Operator, can you reconnect me... fast! Operator! Hello! Dammit! Hello?
God, I was so close! Crap! Come on! Hello?)
He'd be a totally rock-solid New York mayor
Reaching out to touch, every tax-payer
If he can keep it up, between heartfelt apologies
Until then he's just hoping they don't indict
That'd suck, that'd blow, that'd totally bite
Oh, maybe next time he'll think and hit delete, yeah yeah
Maybe next time he'll think before he tweets
Blah blah blah blah, OMG, what an idiot
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5. |
You Rich Motherfuckers
02:28
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Oh oh, you rich motherfuckers
Oh oh, you rich motherfuckers
Oh oh, you rich motherfuckers
You don't give a shit about me
If you've got a billion dollars
Then you've got more than you need
With all that clout you're not thinking about
A million babies you could feed
If you've got a billion dollars
You got it off of somebody else
But you don't care, you think it's quite fair
To keep it all to yourself
Oh oh, you rich motherfuckers
Oh oh, you rich motherfuckers
Oh oh, you rich motherfuckers
You don't give a shit about me… or anybody
Oh oh, you rich motherfuckers
Oh oh, you rich motherfuckers
Oh oh, you rich motherfuckers
You don't give a shit about me
And speaking of babies…
Hey old man in the vatican
Have you heard we're pushing seven billion
But you keep telling everybody it's a sin
To use any kind of protection
Now the babies are starving and they keep on coming
And coming and coming and coming and coming
And all this over-population
Turns out it's tied to copulation
We've been fruitful and multiplied
That's one commandment we've satisfied
You decided that meat on Friday is fine
Can I get a condom, can you change your mind
And while you're helping stem the tide
Could we get a little bit of spermicide
Or if that's too much, could you at least
Quit covering up for your perverted priests
Oh oh, you holy motherfuckers
Oh oh, you holy motherfuckers
Oh oh, you holy motherfuckers
You don't give a shit about me… or anybody
Oh oh, you holy motherfuckers
Oh oh, you holy motherfuckers
Oh oh, you holy motherfuckers
You don't give a shit about me
Now back to the rich and the money they're hoardin'
They couldn't care less what we can't afford, un-
Less they can buy the latest jet
They think they just haven't quite made it yet
And they call me socialist they call me queer
They say I just don't belong around here
And that's expected, I'm not surprised
But I just can't believe all the support for these guys
Millions and millions of average kids
Say it's un-American to tax these pigs
They think someday they might be that fat
They want to protect the money they plan to grab
Well news-flash kids, you'll never get that much
They guys with the bucks won't give it up
And you're helping the jerks who are holding you down
And they'll sell you out, cause you don't count
Oh oh, you rich motherfuckers
Oh oh, you rich motherfuckers
Oh oh, you rich motherfuckers
You don't give a shit about me… or anybody
Oh oh, you rich motherfuckers
Oh oh, you rich motherfuckers
Oh oh, you rich motherfuckers
You don't give a shit about me
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6. |
So Weird
03:51
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Most of your girlfriends have a man with a normal career, or a job
And most of your girlfriends have a man who would never even think of shooting a video in a cemetery, like I did
I don't know why I'm so weird, baby
Most of your girlfriends have a house that's the same color outside all the way ‘round outside
And most of your girlfriends have a man who doesn't look at the riding mower as a viable alternate source of transportation
Oh, I'm sorry I'm so weird, baby
Last week, I was up on the roof at 6 am
Making another dumb youtube
God I'm weird!
Most of your girlfriends have a house that doesn't even faintly resemble a barn
And most of your girlfriends have furniture that matches and doesn't fall apart when the wind blows the wrong direction
Oh, I don't know why I'm so weird, baby
I'm so weird
And the whole world can see me on the internet
Wearing overalls and a wedding dress at the same time
That's pretty weird
Oh, I'm sorry I'm so weird, baby
Yeah, I don't know why I'm so weird
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7. |
Plumbing
02:32
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It's dripping
It's leaking
Can't afford the plumber to come out here in his truck
And tell me all the stupid things I've done
With his router and his wrenches and his calculator
I better try to get it fixed on my own
It's dripping
It's leaking
I hate plumbing
I can't… quite… reach it… DAMMIT!
There's something in the drain or in the line out to the sewer
This crap is coming back and now the place smells like manure
So I'm gouging and I'm plunging like a real man's gotta
And I'm taking a bath in nasty black water
Oh, it's nasty!
It's dripping
It's leaking
I hate plumbing
I can't… quite… seal it… DAMMIT!
My wife likes to watch as I struggle and I swear
She says I look cute with all the gunk in my hair
Now here come the kids to ask a lot of questions
I can barely contain all the cursing I'm repressing
No, Daddy don't need help
Yes, Daddy can fix it
No, Daddy isn't mad
Yes, Daddy can handle it
It's dripping
It's leaking
It's pouring down on me
I hate plumbing
I hate plumbing
I hate plumbing!
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8. |
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What do you get the girl who has everything
She's been around the world, there's nothing she hasn't seen
She's got all kinds of rings, from all kinds of flings
What do you get the girl who has everything
She's got chlamydia, she's got crabs
She's got scabs on the scabs… on her scabs
She's all sore, 'bout the sore, on her lip….s
She's got five or six simplex-es-es-es
And Valentine's day is just around the corner
I need the perfect gift, just what the doctor ordered
What do you get the girl who has everything
A penicillin sampler, some syringes and vaccines
Cause I'm afaid that when she pees I might feel a little sting
What do you get the girl who has everything
Her mono became stereo and then quad and five-point-one
I tried to make her smile with some Azithromycin
That gal-o-mine, needs some calamine, and I'm glad to foot the bill
Money can't buy love, but it buys lots and lots of pills
What do you get the girl who has everything
A vat of boiling water, some ointment and saline
I know I shouldn't go there, but I'm riding on a shwing
What do you get the girl who has everything
She's got two or three quarts, of liquified warts
What do you get the girl who has everything
She's been around the world, and I like sloppy seventeenths
What do you get the girl who has everything
I mean everything
What do you get the girl who has everything, Jack
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9. |
Getting Old
02:57
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Why did I come in here, I really can't recall
I'm in the kitchen, in my boxers, and I got no clue at all
My glasses have gone AWOL, I don't stand a snowball's chance
Cause without them I can't find them, or my car keys, or my pants
This getting old, is getting old
These senior years ain't what I'd call gold
Out to pasture, past my prime
Sidelined, before my time
This getting old, is getting old
I never noticed my joints, till they all started aching
My old tackle box is full, of all the pills I'm taking
I'd like to cap the genius, who invented child-proof caps
I used to have a future, hell I used to have some pants
This getting old, is getting old
My wife and I don't talk, we yell, our hearing aids don't work so well
When she starts nagging me
I take out the battery
This getting old, is getting old
Every cop and doctor is less than half my age
My boss just finished high school, and he just started to shave
Our kids never visit, grandkids never write us
They're texting and they're tweeting, but we've got the arthurit-is
I can't touch my toes, hell I can't see my toes
My head of hair's beyond repair, and it's coming out my nose
It's all downhill from here, straight into the hole
Without my pills I get the shakes, without my pants I'm getting cold
This getting old, is getting old
We can live without our marbles, but not the remote control
Hate to think what might await us now
Mr. Johnson's on hiatus (ow)
This getting old, is getting old
Oh how I miss… the… pants
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10. |
Resolution
03:23
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All right, this year I swear I'm gonna quit smoking, quit drinking, and start freakin exercising!
You say you've made a resolution, well you know
We all want to lose some weight
At fat camp you're an institution, well you know
We all know you'll clean your plate
When there's a box of jelly donuts
You won't be going for the alfalfa sprouts
Don't you know it's New Year's Eve, tonight
Someone brought some Krispy Kremes, all right
Willpower's gonna leave, at midnight
You need a liver substitution, well you know
I'm still using mine right now
O'Doul's might be a good solution, well you know
You won't get drunk, but you might drown
And even your sponsor, down at the local AA
He bet fifty bucks you'll be plastered on New Year's Day
Don't you know it's New Year's Eve, tonight
Someone brought some Irish Creme, all right
Moral fiber's gonna leave, at midnight
You know I don't want to be in bad taste or speak out of turn or anything, but I would rather see terminally ill, unable-to-function Dick Clark doing the countdown, than Carson freakin Daly, my God, I miss you Dick Clark! You put the stroke in the stroke of midnight, buddy!
You're sucking down the air pollution, well you know
Those filters don't do crap
They'll stunt you till you're Lilliputian, well you know
Soon you'll be breathing through a flap (in your freakin neck… have you ever seen Beetlejuice?)
Tonight you're quitting for sure, and you swear you're done
Tomorrow you're wheezing and hacking and yakking up lungs
Don't you know it's New Year's Eve, tonight
Have a hit of Ecstasy, all right
Intestinal fortitude's gonna leave, at midnight
All right, tonight, get tight, here's a light
Can't quite, get it right, despite, what your drunken sponsor says,
Who do you think you're kidding?
All right!
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11. |
My Face
02:16
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The world is full of idiots, you must agree
So glad I'm not one of them, oh no not me
You spent three years on your page
Pimping out a sweet myspace
And you just can't face
Letting all that work go to waste
It's got every song you ever wrote
Every jpeg and stupid viral joke
You just keep on denyin'
But myspace died in 2009
Now I'm on facebook and you can't stand
How the whole damn world is my new best friend
No one comes to your pimped-out page
But they're all over me, all night and day
Everything gets obsolete, everything
No exceptions, you're not that special, see
I'm on facebook
You're on myspace
Let's get together
And get on my face
Erica posts: What would cause a recurring yeast infection?
Cathey posts: If it's continuous, it's not totally healing.
Would grooming cause it? I did douche the last two cycles and bam here I am.. again..
If you have not treated it, Walter could be passing it back to you. You should see a doctor. You can put plain unflavored yogurt on your vagina…
Why you gotta go and publicize everything
Way more than I ever really need to see
I'm on facebook
You're on myspace
Let's get together
And get on my face
Everything gets obsolete, everything
No exceptions, you're not that special, see
I'm on facebook
You're on myspace
Let's get together
And get on my face
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12. |
My Pal the Murray
11:23
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Way back in 2008, before the economy collapsed and George Carlin died and Sarah Palin became a household word, I lived in a cute little gingerbread house right around the corner from the I Dream Of Weenie hotdog stand. You know the place. Well anyway, everything was swell, with my happy happy family in our gingerbread house, except for the undeniable fact that every single day, 24/7, I made a whole lot of noise playing the drums.
Awww – loud freaking drums, every day and night... I was driving everyone crazy...
So I got on Craigslist and I typed in “houses with recording studios inside them,” and would you believe it, I found about 150 of 'em. So I said to my sweet wife, how would you like to come househunting with me? And she said, “What??!! I can't hear you!!” I guess all the drumming had made her a little deaf. Well we took a snare drum and a drumstick and we went from house to house, and inside each house she beat on that snare drum as hard as she could, and if I could hear it outside, we went on to the next house. Until finally we found the perfect home, with finished pine floors and walls that were oh so sound-proof. And I asked the guy what he wanted for it, and he told me, and I said, “okay, but you have to throw in that Murray riding mower I see out back.” And he said, “sure!” Wocka wocka doo doo yeah!
Well let me tell you people, that Murray riding mower was my dream come true, and it was about to become my new best friend. Back at the old house, I'd been mowing the lawn with a push mower, and that yard was huge, and I was always miserable. So it was amazing when I realized, after the home loan went through, that I now had a new special friend...
My Pal The Murray (riding mower), My Pal The Murray (lawn tractor)
See, I'd never even been on a riding mower before. And I gotta tell ya, it was really great. But here's the thing... the folks who were about to buy our old house, well, they were really excited to live there, and one day before that sale was final, I went by the old house to check the mail, and I found the new owners-to-be in the backyard planting geraniums. I didn't want to be a jerk, cause it's not like they were writing on the walls with poop or anything... but still, they didn't own the house yet. So I said, “hey, no big deal, but if you want to work in the yard, give me a call first, okay?” And they looked kinda embarrassed... you know why? I'll tell you why...
Cause the sale hadn't closed, so technically they were trespassing
No the sale hadn't closed, so technically they were trespassing
No the sale hadn't closed, so technically they were trespassing
Ah ha ha ha, how could that possibly come back and bite me on the butt?
So I'm back at our new house, mowing the new lawn with my new best friend Murray. He's awesome! This new yard has no trees to get in my way, and the property goes all the way around the house, so I can mow in great big circles without stopping for branches or roots or delapidated flower-boxes or bikes or roadside trash or used hypodermic needles or big flaming bottles of psoriasis ointment or anything!
A few weeks pass, and the old house is about to sell... the real estate people call it “closing.” You know, I don't know why they call it “closing.” Why can't they call it “selling” like any normal halfway intelligent English-speaking carbon-based life-form? Am I wrong here? Am I wrong? Anyway... then I realize I haven't mowed the lawn at the old house in nearly a month, and it's about to “close.” I think to myself, “I should mow that lawn for the new owners, cause I can't call and ask them to mow it, cause I chewed them out for planting flowers.” And then I think, “I don't have a way to transport Murray (the riding mower) eight miles from the new house to the old house.” And then it hits me... I could drive Murray to the old house! Yeah! Murray goes, what, like five miles an hour? So I should get there in under two hours, mow the lawn in like 45 minutes, and get home in another two hours. What a delightful way to spend a day. Sure beats working.
So I get on mapquest and I plan my route, and I'm new to this part of town so I don't know all the back roads yet, so I get a hat and some sunglasses and a potted fern and some rechargeable batteries and my catcher's mitt and a bag of raisins and my lucky lucky autographed glow-in-the-dark snorkel and my cell phone... and finally I'm ready to go! Then I realize, I need to plan a gas stop on my route. I'd feel pretty stupid if I ran out of gas on a lawn mower. And AAA wouldn't help. You know what they'd say? They'd say...
If you get yourself a car, we'd be glad to help you out
But we can't send a towtruck out to fix a lawn mower
If you get yourself a car, we'd be glad to help you out
But we can't send a towtruck out to fix a lawn mower
Even your Pal The Murray, your Pal The Murray
So I make sure I'm gonna pass at least one gas station, and I grab my credit card and all that other stuff and at 8 am I hit the road. I'm rolling along, and since it's probably illegal to drive a lawn mower on public streets, I pretend I'm mowing each lawn I pass. I soon realize, however, that this mower really goes about 3 miles an hour, so this is going to be a longer excursion than I'd planned. No problem...a rockstar like me can take the whole day off if he wants.
I make a wrong turn, I have to backtrack, and that costs me about a half an hour. Man, this thing is slow. And loud... I never realized before how loud this mower is. I get a call from my attorney, and stop the mower to talk to him about the closing coming up. Everything's fine, I'm still a bigshot, and I start the mower and I go on. I come to a busy street, and I take advantage of the sidewalk. I'm mowing the sidewalk, feeling good, and as I go along, a cement wall appears on my right. I've got a wall on my right, a curb and a busy street on my left... and suddenly I see, right in the middle of the sidewalk... a mailbox.
Some jerk has planted a mailbox in the middle of the sidewalk, and I can't get around it. I have to back up a block, take Murray out in the street, and drive that block again. And now I notice I have an audience for this part... the cast of King Of The Hill is standing around, staring at me. Hey, don't any of you guys have a job to go to?
Two hours in, I stop for gas. I whip out the credit card, put in two bucks' worth, and ignoring the laughter and cruel jokes from the other drivers around me, I head back out on the open road.
You know, when you're only going 3 miles an hour on a really loud internal combustion vehicle and pretending to mow lawns, you notice some things that you might ordinarily overlook. Like how there are kids on schoolbuses in the middle of the day, and they are way way higher up than a shmuck on a lawnmower. And they're waving at me and making really unnecessarily rude gestures with their hands... little things like that.
Speaking of school, my route takes me by our kids' school. I hope to God they're not looking out the windows as I roar by, 120 decibels at 3 miles an hour. I mean, that's just what I need. It's not bad enough that I've grossly underestimated the time-commitment involved in this stupid plan, or that I forgot to put on my Old Spice stick deodorant this morning, or that I have a tiny bit of mint dental floss stuck between my upper right molars which is driving me crazy, or that I just remembered that I have hay fever and even though I'm just pretending to mow all these lawns the pollen is way up in my cerebral cortex now, and all I can do is sneeze into the wind and pretend I have a handkerchief the size of a tablecloth at the Sizzler... now I gotta worry about the kids' friends tormenting them for years to come about their idiot parental unit who is driving by on a really loud lawn mower. In a stupid hat.
I'm hot... I'm tired... I'm ready to mow the lawn at the old house and get done what I came to do. I'm getting closer... I can see the old place... it's right up there... oh man, there it is! And as I arrive, four hours after setting out, I see the new owner-to-be, and he's just finished mowing the lawn.
And I said, “Whoa! What the? Are you kidding me?” And he said, “Uh... I guess I should have called you.”
And your Pal The Murray, your Pal The Murray
We both felt pretty stupid. We just stared at the newly cut grass... and at the two lawn mowers... and at the twenty-seven eight-by-ten color glossy photographs with the circles and arrows to be used as evidence against us... and at the two lawn mowers...
I said, “I have to mow something. He said, “well, I haven't done that fenced area in the back yet.” I said, “Okay, I'll get that!” And I drove the mower over there, and I realized that Murray wouldn't fit through the gate. So I mowed that area with the push-mower.
And I thought, I gotta mow something. So I took Murray over to a patch of grass by the alley, and little did I know that, sticking up from the ground through the long grass, was a steel rod. And I hit that steel rod, and the mower stopped.
It died with a very unsatisfying crunch. I did get it started again, but the part of the mower that actually cuts grass was no longer working. Now I was driving a very loud go-cart. It was the Mr. Bean moment of my life. And I had a four-hour, really loud trip home ahead of me, another chance for the kids to see me driving a lawn-mower in front of their friends, more schoolbuses full of nasty staring monsters, and the very real possibility of getting lost or running out of gas, and that evil mailbox just waiting for me. Oh man... I hate it when I'm stupid...
And now, years later, when I'm driving around with friends in the car, I show them the Route of Ultimate Stupidity. “You see that? There's where I pretended to mow that fat guy's lawn. There's where I had to go down that 45 mph curved stretch with no sidewalk, hoping not to get hit by a truck. There's that mailbox I wound up setting on fire. There's where I had heat stroke and threw a rod and accidentally put borscht in the gas tank.”
But I guess the whole point I'm tryin' to make here is...
I hate geraniums!
That's all I'm really tryin' to say
And, by the way, if one day you happen to be making some kind of exciting real estate deal, unloading a piece of crap gingerbread house to get a goofy-looking barn-type of a house with a recording studio in it so that you can play the drums all night long, just make sure that your new house is a sweet little home... a little place with a new friend that makes a lot of noise...
Like my Pal The Murray, my Pal The Murray
My Pal the Murray, Pal the Murray
My Pal the Murray, Pal the Murray
My Pal the Murray, Pal the Murray
My Pal the Murray, Pal the Murray
I said "P" (P) "A" (A) "L" (L) "the" (the) "Murray" (Murray)
Pal The Murray, Pal The Murray, Pal The Murray, Pal The Murray
Pal The Murray, Pal The Murray, Pal The Murray, Pal The Murray
Pal The Murray, Pal The Murray, Pal The Murray, Pal The Murray
Pal The Murray, Pal The Murray, Pal The Murray, Pal The Murray
Pal The Murray
Heh heh, I play drums
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13. |
Dire Straits
03:06
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I blog everything I do
When I fold my socks, and brush my teeth
Guess I like the attention
Makes me feel pretty neat
I friend everyone on facebook
They're all following my tweets
And I wonder how the government
Got all that intel on me
Every cell phone is a camera
Every friend is a spy
Everywhere you go, anytime
You've got an airtight alibi
We friend everyone on facebook
Hey everybody, read my tweets
We're just helping our Big Brother
Get all the intel he needs
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Steve Goodie Nashville, Tennessee
For as long as songwriters and musicians have been plying their creative wares, it's been understood that music is a funny business. For comedian/songwriter Steve Goodie, a slight twist might be more apt: "Funny is a music business."
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