It takes a backwashed man to sing a backwashed song
Like a frying pan when the fires gone
Driving my pig while the bands taking pictures in the grass
And my radios smashed
And I like pianos in the evening sun
Dragging my heels til my day is done
Saturday night in the captains clothes
Tin horns blowing with my jewelry froze
Yo soy un disco quebrado
Yo tengo chicle en el cerebro
I cant believe my way-back-when
My Cadillac pants going much too fast
Karaoke weekend at the suicide shack
Community service, and Im still The Mack
Shocked my finger, spots on my hand
I been spreading disease all across the land
Beautiful, air-conditioned
Sitting in the kitchen wishing I was livin like a hitman
Face down in the guarantees
Jaundiced honchos gettin busy with ease
Because I get down, I get down, I get down all the way
Yo soy un disco quebrado
Yo tengo chicle en el cerebro
Im a nasty, nasty man
Im… Im… Im a… Im a nasty, nasty man
Sawdust songs of the plaid bartenders
Western unions of the country westerns
Silver foxes looking for romance
In their chainsmoke Kansas flashdance ass-pants
And youve got the hotwax residues
You never lose in your razorblade shoes
Stealing pesos out of my brain
Hazard signs down the Alamo lanes
Radar systems piercing their souls
You never get caught with the wax so rotten
All my days I got the grizzly words
Hijacked flavors that are flipping like birds
Yo soy un disco quebrado
Yo tengo chicle en el cerebro
Who are you?
Im the enchanting wizard of rhythm
Why did you come here?
I came here to tell you about the rhythms of the universe