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Outsmartin' the Popos Lyrics
Outsmartin' the Popos I remember that day: the day I put the arsenic in the policeman's burger at the drive-through. That was the day that I "outsmarted the popos." And I wrote that on his wrapper. I saw him the next day, too. He looked kind of sick. I said, "Hey, Popo--you look kind of sick! How'd ya like that arsenic? Take that, ya popo." (He didn't outsmart anybody.) I recorded this one with Robert Manzanedo to DAT in Los Banos, CA. It was the summer of 1996. Therefore, this is technically the first recording I did for this, my first album. It just wasn't on four-track. This Is What Happens... This is what happens when you give Logan a 4-track He writes these stupid songs all the time at 1 o'clock in the morning He lies awake and thinks of lyrics that are stupid, really stupid Listen to these lyrics--aren't they stupid? (Obligatory breakdown w/ funny noises) This is what happens when you give Logan a 4-track He writes these stupid songs all the time at 1 o'clock in the morning Well, it is. Hang Up and Die Again This was my first four-track recording, aside from some stuff I did when I was thirteen. It's pretty innovative, if not good. Sunday Paper I'm gonna kill my neighbor Cause he stole my sunday paper I'm gonna kill my neighbor Cause he stole my sunday paper The same thing happens every week I get so mad I can hardly speak I want my daily horoscope I'm gonna kill my neighbor And then I'm gonna burn his house down To the ground I wish I had a quarter For every time I reached the border And almost killed my stupid neighbor Over a stolen sunday paper He even let his mangy cat Do something nasty on my welcome mat I wish I had a baseball glove So I could kill my next door neighbor And take his bowling trophies And pawn them off If only I were ten feet tall I'd smush him up into a ball And then I'd roll him down the stairs But I am only four foot six So I wanna kill my neighbor Cause he stole my sunday paper But I guess I'm kinda helpless Like the later-years Elvis There'll be no letting of blood today I'll ring his doorbell and run away And laugh at him from my front porch And forget about my paper Cause after all I don't know how to read The first song I ever wrote with a real piano. First released in 1997 on Outsmartin' the Popos, my first cassette release. Farkle! This is the first Farkle commercial. This one makes the second one make a little more sense. The first appearance of John-John the Leprechaun. Buy it today, you monkey. Sid Sheinberg's Tuesday Nite Revue The lyrics to this song were "borrowed" from my friends in other local bands at the time--Headboard, Little Tin Frog, Brazil, The Blockheads, Sons of Atom, and Nirvana II, The Sequel. Sid Sheinberg went on to greater fame and fortune than he could possibly have imagined. Rudolf Nureyev I wish that everything would just work out The way it was supposed to And everything was perfect And no one had ever heard of the Macarena ('Eez my boyfriend/But 'eez stoo-pid) I wish that everybody knew my name And that they'd call me on the telephone And they'd say, "Hey Logan, what's up Ya wanna go fer lunch?" If everybody was perfect They wouldn't have to repeat themselves They wouldn't have to repeat themselves They wouldn't have to repeat themselves My life would be simple then Cause I'd live in a plastic egg And I'd call myself Rudolf Nureyev And I'd brag about how I could dance I wish that everyone would disappear So I could listen to my radio And never have to repeat myself To anybody... ...ever again. Tough Titty Tough titty! In the city! So itty-bitty! I gotta gitty--me some! I got what she wants I got what she needs I got what she has You know what I mean Tough titty! In the city! So itty-bitty! I gotta gitty--me some! (Owen solo--"Spit that Odwalla, Glenn") (Logan solo--"Polka, polka") Tough titty! In the city! So itty-bitty! I gotta gitty--me some! I got my love gun loaded Got my high-heeled boots So come on and get ready I'm gonna shake your caboose Tough titty! Look so pretty! Here kitty-kitty! (Meow!) I gotta gitty--me some! Some tough titty... Written by Owen Otto and Logan Whitehurst The Waffle of Death CHORUS: We'll all have fun when the Waffle of Death comes down to the farm We'll all go to our respective afterlives VERSE I need a quarter; I got to make a telephone call (I can't believe it) The deadly waffle knows exactly where I am (I just can't believe it) CHORUS VERSE CHORUS The definitive original, and still my favorite track from Outsmartin' the Popos. The Standard Metric System The Standard Metric System Measures distances and weights For mass and volume, length and height It's used to calculate Compared to standard U.S. measures One can plainly see The metric system's blunt efficiency Yard vs. meter, quart vs. liter The pound squares off against the kilogram, you see A decimal equation defines the U.S. nation As fools afraid to change their terminology The world has the kilometer And we have got our mile The time has come to face the facts And face them with a smile So if those foreign weirdos Try to ask us to conform We'll blow their stupid countries all to hell I mean, seriously, why aren't we on it? We have kilometers on our speedometers--why not our street signs? Oh, the humanity! Oh, the frustration when driving and building things in other countries! Vibrating Leprechaun Joe and I did this on caffeine and boredom. Please forgive us. Joe is the one who says "Vibrrrrraaaaation!" Avocado Madness Avocado madness Avocado madness Avocado madness Avocado madness Avocado avocado Avocado avocado Avocado avocado Avocado avocado Wave your hands in the air Wave your hands in the air Wave your hands in the air Wave Avocado madness Avocado madness Avocado madness Avocado madness They told me not to listen to the avocado But I did listen to the avocado Dave Avocado madness Avocado madness ...madness... ...When You Give Owen a Guitar This is what happens when You give Owen a guitar And four chords that Logan thought of On his bedroom floor at 1:15 in the morning This what happens when he takes those chords And he plays them Over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over Deedly doink Deedly squat squat Deedle doink Deedly squat squat This is what happens when you give Owen a-- what the heck am I sitting in? Oh my God, it's crawling up my leg A Brief Reprise (Various screaming and gibberish) VibrrrrrAtion! |
