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Track Name: ¡Sweet Burgermask!
Burgermask, Burgermask,
Dripping juice in your bourbon glass;
Burgermask, Burgermask,
¿Pattie of meat, how'd ya get so sweet,
Sweet Burgermask? Burgermask,
Flashin' teeth- ¿Are ya tryin' to eat yo'
Burgermask, Burgermask?
Track Name: Beefcake
¿What kinda big cake's,
Sweeter when the cake's fake,
And hotter when it don't bake?

¿Bigger than a breadbox,
'n' longer than a dreadnaught,
Till you're louder than a boombox?

Off go the tear-away snap-pants,
Down come the chopper;
Death by chocolate lap dance, oh yeah.

Bass, treble, pumpin' out,
From a cake, I'll come jumpin' out,
Replete with muscle grease:
¡Oh, Clarice, how divine!
Goes the oven clocks, I'm cooling off,
So break out the frosting;
Beefcake, back for more,
Every bite moist, every time.

Blow out the candles,
Your wish for a man will
Getcha more than you can handle,

Chiseled 'n' single,
With a swingin' can o' Pringles,
But devoutly cunnilingal.

You thought that you were exhaustin'
All of your options,
Till you found the can of frostin', oh yeah.


Adherent to the doctrine,
Passed the test you're proctorin':
Conductor of desire conducts them like a treble choir with his helicopterin'.
Stuff his speedo with cash,
He'll even take out the trash,
And put away the dishes without being asked.

Maybe there's a race of men building cake cocoons,
From which they'll emerge, to make ya swoon:
Their icing glistens in the night;
When their man-tenna and your she-quency are in tune,
All of his layers will answer your prayers
By a sucrose-ficial rite.

Bakeries everywhere
Hatch men in gold underwear,
Replete with shortnin' grease- oh, my, Clarice,
How divine!
Goes the baker's clocks, and from their smocks,
Fresh dollar bills for
Beefcakes, back for more,
In every flavor a tongue could savor:

Jocks, rockers, surfer-dudes,
In fondant-ured servitude
To the whims of every quim they're falling into tonight;
Like Russian dolls, our rush enthralls,
So break out the frosting,
Beefcake: back for more,
Till every cake erupts with a man and a dance floor, 'n'

Track Name: Diane
I can hear the shower running
Over you, Diane;
Steam all around you like a choir [Whoa-oh]
Hot nights, moonlight,
Towel 'round your head;
Lithe limbs, warm skin,
Climbing into bed,
Maneuvering like poetry
Over me, Diane:
Each limb, a stanza,
And each inch, an iamb.
Bright eyes find mine, through tangles of your hair.
Reach out, nine times,
In the middle of the night, but you're not there,

The ship's wheel in my hand,
But I'm longing for dry land
On a course I know I'll strand,
Laying awake at night, you understand,
That a man just ain't a man,
Till he's back in your arms, Diane.
Tangle of bodies 'n' sheets, oh, what a feeling,
Of leaving your feet, when awayward, we're stealing,
Flying so high until our head hits the ceiling again.

Can't let you get away, Di-

-Ane, I coulda seen it coming,
From here to old Cheyenne,
'Cuz every time I play, I tip my hand.
All that water, spilling down the drain,
Still I bother, when only lonely suds remain, and
I still hear the shower running, lonesome as I am;
It's running, far-from-over-you, Diane,
In cascades that made,
Tiny rivulets,
Down your shoulders,
Face, and neck, and freckled breasts, Diane.

Track Name: Got a New Girl [Billy O. O'Day]
Billy's such a player, he deals himself three hands a game,
Never forgets the nape of a neck, but don't recall their name,
Talks to the women with an ease and bluster,
Counters their rebuttals with a filibuster,
And a mixed drink.
'Said, he be laying it on like Strauss wrote waltzes,
'n' laying his pipe in anything with a pulse,
and it's fair to think
When his bedpost clink-

He got a new girl,
He always got a new girl.
Don't need the box uh the tissues, or Penthouse,
The Silver Fox always finds hisself a henhouse
He got a new girl,
He always got a new girl.

Billy got a way to get shot down, down, so many times.
Billy got a way to stay airborne, and cruise over enemy lines.
Fullest of their bullets as any dude,
But the red lead of the lipstick tubes
Only eggs him on;
Neither snicker nor sneer will steer him 'round,
Takes a bandolier-full to put him down,
By the end of the night
On his exit flight

He'll have a new girl,
He always got a new girl,
Incredible, yes, but alas, it's true,
His tap of the ass is awaiting you,
He'll have a new girl,
He always got a new girl,
By the time you find all your clothes in the dark,
He'll be out the door, looking for another mark,
And it's fair to say,
That it's just his way,

Billy O. O'Day, Billy O. O'Day,
Doesn't give an "aw, schucks," or half-a-cluck
What the neighbors say;
Spillin' Tanqueray on the new duvet,
"It'll wash right out," say Billy O. O'Day,
B-B-B-Billy O.
He always got a new girl.

Billy O.O'Day, Billy O. O'Day,
with a chin-chuck, cab fare, forty bucks,
Send you on your way;
Your stockings, frayed,
And his bed, unmade,
¿Is it all that's left of Billy O. O'Day?

B-B-B-Billy O.,
He always got a new girl.
Track Name: Manymuch
Livin' good, livin' tough,
All we got is just enough,
Better make more many, but how, h-how, h-how?
Corporation Limitless
Tigertails Unlimited,
But now, n-now, n-now

You caught too many, you're fraught with manies
till they rot and drop from the vine.
¿How many many's enough? ¿Is any,
When he claim by touch, sayin' "¡Mine, muh-mine, muh-mine!"?

Manymuch, manymuch, manymuch
Manymuch, manymuch,
Time to kill;
¿Is evermuch never'nuff
Impetus to get down?

Livin' high on the hog,
Twiddle every sprocket 'n' cog,
And the Manymuchmaker make more, muh-more, muh-more.
Answered prayer melt,
There on the conveyor belt,
But we pump them out by the score, muh-more.

When you got so many you're fraught with manies,
Every room in the wall has a door.
But ya got so many, you can't choose any,
And ya nevermuch dream of the door no more,
And your might is many and right, till everything
You built it on float away,
¿So why choose any? We got so many, so,

Manymuch, Manymuch, Manymuch,
Manymuch, manymuch,
Time to kill,
With evermuch, neversuch, candystore
Let down.

Manymuch, manymuch, manymuch,
Anysuch evermany
Rhymes to kill.
Time distillable, fill it up with syllables

{Ya-mama-yama-me-yah, me-yah, muh-mah-me etc.]
We're the jibber-jabber steeple.
We are the onomatopeople.

When ya got so many ya don't use any,
It's manymuch a sign of the times:
No much of many appear like any;
When we want, we want evermore than before.

Manymuch magics,
Manyfew magicians,
Much to go around, but it stay in one position;
Manymuch water,
Manymuch thirst,
Seasoning your fries with the salt of the earth.
When many, so many, so more than plenty
Doesn't feel like any to cost, or to prospect,
So manymuch spill in my hands that I lost it.
Said never trust the man with his hand on the faucet.

Manymuch people,
Sequels of the sequels,
Stack 'em like a totem pole, you pump 'em out and refill;
Twistin' 'n' sweaty, like live spaghetti,
So packed 'n' ready, they never pay a heat bill.
Evermany talk-talks,
Tossed into the crockpot,
Boiled down to syllables, to onmatopeople,
Boiled down to syllables, to onmatopeople,

Boiled down to syllables, to onmatopeople.

Many, many, many, got so
Many, many, many THINGS
Gummin' up the singing of this HARP OF HUMAN STRINGS:
Many, Many, Many RULES,
Manymuch LET DOWN.
¿Why of all the manies is there never any GET DOWN?

¿Is it buried in the garage now?

¿Is it only a mirage now?
Track Name: When I Hear Your Lonesome Whistle Blowing
Half of me believes it ain't no secret at all,
When a turn of events ushers in, upon a whim,
A siren's call.
¿Can't you hear that distant whistle
In the night, to light our only lamp?
Driving like a guided missile,
With a load of freight, or lonely tramps,
Or cantors of some rail remote,
To chant, or wail, or loc-emote
The answers in our hands we haven't reached yet.

All the smoke and soot your stacks are blowing
Way up high, across the western plain,
Cannot hide your lonesome whistle blowing,
Oh, save your steam, child, don't explain,
'Cause I laid down the tracks to where you're going;
All the rails you ride, I've ridden, too,
And when I hear your lonesome whistle blowing,
Know it won't be long till I am back with you.

Tumbleweeds 'n' brambles cartwheel down the open road.
Crosswise, a fixed path of steel, so far from rambling,
Bears the load
Of locomotives, chug-chug-chugging,
Their windows full of passengers
Blinking, yawning, drinking, shrugging;
A southern belle unfastens
Her girdle, she can breathe again.
Sweet relief, her grieving ends,
¿But can we say the same for trains she rode?


Hands and hands of eights and tens will neither win nor fold.
Strange, how the afternoon sun that hits your window
Leaves you cold.
Intersecting paths with wayfaring
Troubadours and transients
Tryin' to buy more time by staying
On the go; the light, the romance
We bent, like relativity.
¿Will it slow down time enough for me
To work in one last circuit 'round the plain?

We're making such good time, Clarice,
But will we get there in one piece?
The station's fast approaching through the rain.

On the platform, handkerchiefs are flowing;
All the hands that wave them now are gone.
Ghosts forever hear your whistle blowing,
But their hosts, the folks, have all moved on,
Till twilight, just before their lamps are glowing,
When comes a cry to ring their window panes:
Their grinning faces sing your whistle's blowing
In doppler-harmonized refrains.
[repeat CHORUS 1]