Difference between revisions of "The Downtown Talent Scout"
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==Lyrics== | ==Lyrics== | ||
+ | <br>The kids are freaking out | ||
+ | <br>Everybody is goin' nuts | ||
+ | <br>The heat's out every night | ||
+ | <br>To call up names and kick their butts | ||
+ | <br>Well every time you turn around | ||
+ | <br>You'll see some joker staring back | ||
+ | <br>He's got a secret tape recorder | ||
+ | <br>And a camera in a sack | ||
+ | <br>Pretending that he's just another | ||
+ | <br>Of the kiddies freaking out | ||
+ | <br>But they pay him off in acid | ||
+ | <br>'Cause he's a downtown talent scout | ||
+ | |||
+ | <br>He's got your name | ||
+ | <br>And he's got your face | ||
+ | <br>He's got your ex-old lady's place | ||
+ | <br>He's here to see what's goin' down | ||
+ | <br>And they don't believe the things he's found | ||
+ | |||
+ | <br>The badges gleam and the minors scream | ||
+ | <br>The heat pulls on the scene | ||
+ | <br>They got no warrants in their pockets | ||
+ | <br>But that badge makes them supreme | ||
+ | |||
+ | <br>"You kids are smoking dandelions | ||
+ | <br>You're sniffing paper bags, baby | ||
+ | <br>You're dropping Good 'N Plenties | ||
+ | <br>We can tell; your posture sags | ||
+ | <br>Now line up here against the wall | ||
+ | <br>Your bodies frail and thin | ||
+ | <br>And open up your pockets | ||
+ | <br>While we dump the evidence in" | ||
+ | |||
+ | <br>Well they know that smoking flowers | ||
+ | <br>Won't win a case in court | ||
+ | <br>And they know that Good 'N Plenties | ||
+ | <br>Aren't the psychedelic sort | ||
+ | <br>But they tear your place apart | ||
+ | <br>Because they simply couldn't pass | ||
+ | <br>A chance to drag some freaks downtown | ||
+ | <br>For smoking devil grass | ||
+ | |||
+ | <br>Well you never get your day in court | ||
+ | <br>The food downtown is foul | ||
+ | <br>The day of trial you nearly die | ||
+ | <br>With maggots in your bowel | ||
+ | <br>But modern law and justice | ||
+ | <br>Has advanced to such a point | ||
+ | <br>That a jury trial is useless | ||
+ | <br>They simply take you to the joint | ||
+ | <br>'Cause after all you look so freaky | ||
+ | <br>How could anyone believe | ||
+ | <br>That what you think and what you feel | ||
+ | <br>Comes close at all to what is real | ||
+ | |||
+ | <br>Blow your harmonica, son! | ||
+ | |||
==Players On This Song== | ==Players On This Song== | ||
+ | *[[Biography|Frank Zappa]] - Guitar, Lead Vocals | ||
+ | *[[Ray Collins]] - harmonica | ||
+ | *[[Elliot Ingber]] - rhythm guitar | ||
+ | *[[Roy Estrada]] - bass | ||
+ | *[[Jimmy Carl Black]] - drums | ||
==Records On Which This Song Has Appeared== | ==Records On Which This Song Has Appeared== | ||
===Singles=== | ===Singles=== | ||
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==Notes About This Song== | ==Notes About This Song== | ||
==CC Clues In This Song== | ==CC Clues In This Song== | ||
+ | *[["Blow your harmonica, son!"]] | ||
+ | |||
[[Category:Tracks|Downtown Talent Scout]] | [[Category:Tracks|Downtown Talent Scout]] |
Latest revision as of 21:17, 26 December 2021
Lyrics
The kids are freaking out
Everybody is goin' nuts
The heat's out every night
To call up names and kick their butts
Well every time you turn around
You'll see some joker staring back
He's got a secret tape recorder
And a camera in a sack
Pretending that he's just another
Of the kiddies freaking out
But they pay him off in acid
'Cause he's a downtown talent scout
He's got your name
And he's got your face
He's got your ex-old lady's place
He's here to see what's goin' down
And they don't believe the things he's found
The badges gleam and the minors scream
The heat pulls on the scene
They got no warrants in their pockets
But that badge makes them supreme
"You kids are smoking dandelions
You're sniffing paper bags, baby
You're dropping Good 'N Plenties
We can tell; your posture sags
Now line up here against the wall
Your bodies frail and thin
And open up your pockets
While we dump the evidence in"
Well they know that smoking flowers
Won't win a case in court
And they know that Good 'N Plenties
Aren't the psychedelic sort
But they tear your place apart
Because they simply couldn't pass
A chance to drag some freaks downtown
For smoking devil grass
Well you never get your day in court
The food downtown is foul
The day of trial you nearly die
With maggots in your bowel
But modern law and justice
Has advanced to such a point
That a jury trial is useless
They simply take you to the joint
'Cause after all you look so freaky
How could anyone believe
That what you think and what you feel
Comes close at all to what is real
Blow your harmonica, son!
Players On This Song
- Frank Zappa - Guitar, Lead Vocals
- Ray Collins - harmonica
- Elliot Ingber - rhythm guitar
- Roy Estrada - bass
- Jimmy Carl Black - drums