LYRICS

 

Mommy's Chest

I don't know what to do I'm a failure
I don't get up till two o'clock
Then I wander the streets and I get depressed
So I run on home To my mommy's chest

My mommy's chest, my mommy's chest
I get all that I want from my mommy's chest

My mommyís chest is well stacked With Librium and valium and methamphetamine
I get the remedy because she understands
The way to fake a living from a total mess

My mommy's chest, my mommy's chest
I get all that I want from my mommy's chest

Manic-depressive parents Is all I got from God 
So mommy and I we never know what to do
So mommy and I get stoned on Librium and glue
While mommy and I we watch the Bullwinkle Moose

While daddy brings home the booze
My daddy brings home the booze

My mommy's chest, my mommy's chest
I get the remedy from my mommy's chest
My mommy's chest, my mommy's chest
I get all that I want from my mommy's chest

My mommy's chest, my mommy's chest
I got to get home to her medicine chest...

 

 - Velasquez & Ochoa - 1979

 

 

 

People like you

People like you make me sick 
So Goddamned perfect I grieve and rather not eat
Trapped in the foulness of my wrenched little pen
Sick passes suicidal, wondering if there'll be no end
(press on your eyes and pretend)

'Cause all I ever get out of love
is bumps from beating my head against the wall
Scars from carving designs on my arms
Terminal schizophrenia, wanting to rip off my prick
(people like you make me sick)

People like you, people like you

People like you shouldn't even be allowed in public places
It's worse than a riot the random violence of your presence
To top it all off you come up to me and talk of sweet things
You're worse than degenerate, feeding off of other people's grief
(people like you make me sick)  

'Cause all I ever get out of love
is bumps from beating my head against the wall
Scars from carving designs on my arms
Terminal schizophrenia, wanting to rip off my prick
(people like you make me sick)

People like you, people like you  

Hey listen I'm more than a fool, you don't even have to buy me presents 
We don't have to kiss, you don't even have to mention filthy sweet things
I'll pay for your drugs, hey I'll even buy you a sex-date
But please keep me near you

Ďcause people like you make me sick.

 - Velasquez - 1981

 


Confession (Jesus Clone)

The words to the song Confession will not be printed. Instead an apology to the pope and all religious patrons that may be upset by the contents of this song. I was brought up a Catholic and I always wanted to be good. Some times I would pray to God asking him to make me good. When I grew up I found out that good meant several different things. A young innocent child of twelve, I decided that I wanted to be good in every aspect of the word good. So I set off to be good and since this period of time when I was twelve was the mid seventies when the hippies took control of the mass media, I learned that good was to have an open mind and that everything was beautiful in its own way. So I started looking into other good forms of religion such as meditating and sadism and Satanism. Anyway,  I ended up rejecting religion. The reason I wrote the song Confession is because I had heard all these good stories about Jesus Christ, coupled with all the bizarre stories I heard in church, I really began to identify with him saying, yeah Iím like him in more than one sense. I can almost be considered a wondering Jew, besides I really am good. So the song came out as a Patti smith imitation in the attempt to top her dumb attempts at blasphemy. I think I really succeeded in blasphemy. When I heard the final mix of this song it scared the shit out of me and I really donít want to go to hell.  Really.  I mean Iím not bad.  I havenít killed anyone yet and I donít shoot up (kind of). I guess I should apologize to my high school photography teacher for writing a song about her miscarriage. - G.V.

(From the liner notes to "Live At Target" - Subterranean Records, 1980)


Cardinal Newman

SS treatment early in the morning
Religious instruction with Christian guilt 
While they pray on bleeding knees 
They'll suck your will until its dry 

Cardinal Newman is my savior 
Sister Gabrielle's a horny bitch 
Masturbation in hot showers
Masturbation is Christian relief 

Will you punish me now and then 
Make me do what you want
Force your beliefs down my throat
Make a killing once a week

Cardinal Newman is my savior 
Sister Gabrielle's a horny bitch 
Masturbation in hot showers
Masturbation is Christian relief 

Groups of  boys just stare and watch
Groups of girls rip and raw
Penetration filled with fear
Penetration a Christian relief

Cardinal Newman is my savior 
Sister Gabrielle's a horny bitch 
Masturbation in hot showers
Masturbation is Christian relief 

Catholic school with prison bars

Catholic school with prison bars

- Stapleton - 1980

 

FAT COW

Itís not very easy to state the change that you made
It started with me waking to a whining wench
Sharpening your witch fangs as the days grew intolerable
If what we were was living then Iím glad youíre dead

Fat cow
Moo-Moo
Four tits
Cow hips

Trolloping your buttocks like a mastodon in heat
the way you trot around you must be tight as a mud wad
Whoís to even mention all the things that you did
You ended up replacing me with a closet fag

You haggy Fat cow
Moo-Moo
Four tits
Cow hips

Traded all your wrist band for a pile of love beads
Turned so fucking natural, growing out your hair
Mellowing your pea brain with some hippy weed
If thatís what you call living, then youíre better Dead

 

 


 

ALIEN POINT OF VIEW

Turning Green Ė
Iím sick of mediocre people eyeing me
Like a cow eyeing upward grinning eyeing me
As if I was some sort of mental deficiency
Or they pass me by all google eyed snickering
Oh well, what can you expect from burnt out hippies?

(At least)
I donít have body like that
Oblong shaped, with flabby chest
And flabby gut, and thoroughly disgusting
(And thoroughly disgusting)

(At least)
I donít have a face like that
Singe shut mouth, two holes for nose
Red bulging eyes, like some Vietnam War atrocity
(Like some Vietnam war atrocity)

Oh well I donít care what you think, crass pig
ĎCause from the alien point of view
You brainless cur
(Youíre just as weird as I am)
CurÖ..

Cringe Ė
At anything thatís new or too extreme
At any attitudes that you havenít seen
Better pray you donít fall off of your narrow mind

(At least)
I donít have a life like that
Real house and job, from 9 to 5,
A freeway drive, and all totally for nothing
(And all totally for nothing)

(At least)
I donít have to cope with siblings like that
Crass ogre mouths, up-mobile minds
A frigid wife and all suicidal discerning
(all suicidal discerning)

Oh well I donít care what you think, crass pig
Cause from the alien point of view
You brainless cur
(Youíre just as weird as I am)
CurÖ..
(Youíre just as weird as I am)
CurÖ..
(Youíre just as weird as I am)
CurÖ..

Then again maybe not
Cause your five times as boring
And ten times as ugly
(at least)

 

Regress For You

sometimes i feel... frail

it makes me want to... regress for you

i know that it is stupid...

all of the things that i try to do like to regress for you

scrape my knees for you - electrify my patch regress...

i know it bugs you, the things i try to do it makes your bug full, whenever i try to still, you're such a weak pig, the things you let me do you encourage me to, all of the things you don't want me to do

that's why i feel... frail

it makes me want to... regress for you i know that it is stupid... all of the things that i try to do like to regress for you scrape my knees for you electrify my patch regress...

I'm daffy-footed, a klutz compared to you that should encourage you to teach me how to do still, you won't help me through, too big and clumsy to matter to you too big a sissy to hang out with you but still i'm hoping that maybe that you'll... overlook all the silly things that i do


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