Debra Kadabra
Say she's a witch
Shit-ass Charlotte!
Ain't that a bitch?
Debra Kadabra -Haw, that's rich!

Jone, a rancho granny,
Shook her wrinkled fanny

Shoes are too tight and pointed
Ankles sorta puffin' out
Cause me to shout:

Oh Debra Algebra Ebneezra Kadabra
Witch Goddess of Lankershim Boulevard
Cover my entire body with Avon Cologna
And drive me to some relative's house in East L.A.
(Just till my skin clears up)
Turn it to Channel 13
And make me watch the rubber tongue
When it comes out
Of the puffed & flabulent Mexican rubber-goods mask
Next time they show the Brnokka

Make me buy The Flosser
Make me grow braniac fingers
(But with more hair)
Make me kiss your turquoise jewelry
Emboss me
Rub the hot front part of my head
With rented unguents
Give me bas relief!

Cast your dancing spell my way
I promise to go under it

Learn the Pachuco Hop
And let me twirl ya

Oh Debra Fauntleroy Magnesium Kadabra!
Take me with you ...
Don't you want any a these?

I coulda swore her hair was made of rayon
She wore a Milton Bradley Crayon
But she was something I could lay on
Can't remember what became of me...
Carolina Hardcore Ecstasy

She put a Doobie Brothers tape on
I had a Roger Daitrey cape on
There was a bed I dumped her shape on
Can't remember what became of me...
Carolina Hardcore Ecstasy

Somewhat later on
I woke up and she was gone
There was dew out on the lawn
In the sunrise
Later she came back
With a rumpled paper sack
Which she told me would contain
A surprise

She stuck her hand right in it to the bottom
Said she knew I'd be surprised she got'em
Take a Charleston pimp to spot 'em
Then she gave a pair of shoes to me ...
Plastic leather, 14 Triple D

I said: I wonder what's the shoes for
She told me: Don't you worry no more
And got right down there on the tile floor:
Now Darling STOMP ALL OVER ME! ...
Carolina Hardcore Ecstasy

Is this something new
Having people stomp on you?
Is it what I need to do
For your pleasure?
What is this, a quiz?
Don't you worry what it is
It is merely just a moment
I can treasure

By ten o'clock her arms and legs were rendered
She couldn't talk 'cause her mouth had been extendered
Looked to me as though she had been blendered
But was this abject misery?
No! No!
Carolina Hardcore Ecstasy!

It might seem strange to Herb and Dee -
Carolina Hardcore Ecstasy!

[includes quotes from Sweet Leilani (Owens) and Louie Louie (Richard Berry)]

Sam with the showing scalp flat top,
Particular about the point it made.
(I got it... )
Why, when I was knee-high to a grasshopper,
This black juice came out on a hard shelled chin.
And they called that 'tobacco juice'.
I used to fiddle with my back feet music for a black onyx.
My entire room absorbed every echo.
The music was... thud like.
The music was... thud like.
I usually played such things as rough-neck and thug.
Opaque melodies that would bug most people.
Music from the other side of the fence.
A black swan figurine lay on all color lily pads.
On a little conglomeration table of pressed black felt.
With same color shadows, in seamed knobbed knees, and what-nots.
The long hallway rolled out into oddball odd.
Beside the fly-pecked black doorway,
That looked closed on the tar-lattice street.
Up a wrought iron fire escape.
Rolled out a tiny wooden platform with dark, hard, dark rubber wheels.
Roll, skreek! Roll, skreek! Roll, skreek!
Sam with the showing scalp flat top,
Particular about the point it made.

Sam was a BASKET CASE!
A hardened dark ivory clip held... saleable everyday pencils.
I wish I had a pair 'o bongos!
Bongo Fury!
Bongo Fury!
Oowwwww! Bongo Fury!
(Boogie!)
Bongo Fury!
Bongo Fury...
Bongo Fury...

Poofter's Froth, Wyoming
March Eleven Sixty-Seven
Take a letter
Miss Abetter
As our pigeons
Will be homing

To our jobbers in Dakota
And to Merwyn, Minnesota
This is merely just a note about
Performance to our quota

Well, we all come out
To show dem
An' the Elks have helped us
Load 'em
Little packets full of jackets
Little rackets, little rackets

Little Poofter - Cloth Appointments
Little Poofter's Froth Anointments
Little hoods, little goods,
Little doo-dads from the woods
The entire stock is shipping
Oh our shod is hardly slipping
To the markets of the world
Our wrinkled pennants are unfurled!

T-shirt racks, rubber snacks,
Poster rolls with matching tacks
Yes, a special beer for sports
(and paper cups that hold two quarts)

Everything a nation needs
For making hoopla while if feeds
The trash compactors, small reactors,
Mowers, blowers, throwers & the glowers:

This is Buy-Cent-Any-All Salute (HYULK!)
Two hundred years have gone ka-poot!
Ah but we have been astute!
Signed: Anon. - Wyo. Galoot!

I was sittin' in a breakfast room in Allentown, Pennsylvania,
Six o'clock in the morning, got up too early, it was a terrible mistake...
Sittin' there face-to-face with a 75 cent glass of orange juice
About as big as my finger and a bowl of horribly foreshortened cornflakes,
And I said to myself: "This is the life!"...

She's two hundred years old
So mean she couldn't grow no lips
Boy, she'd be in trouble if she
Tried to grow a mustache

She's two hundred years old
Squattin' down & pockin' up
In front of the juke box
Like she had true religion, boy
Like she had true religion

She's two hundred years old
Hoy hoy, 200 years old
Half of this, none of that,
One-fifty oh squattin'
Yeah-ah, ain't she got
Religion now, boy

Out in Cucamonga
Many years ago
Near a Holy Roller Church
There was once a place
Where me and a couple of friends
Began practicing for the time
We might go (????-????. . . ????-????... ????-????)
On TV

And as fate would have it
Later on we got a chance to play.
All we ever really knew:
That it was crazy
To be doin' it any other way

No more credit
From the liquor store
Suit is all dirty, boy
Shoes is all wore
Tired and lonely, my
Heart is all sore
Advance romance
I can't stand it no more

Told me she loved me
I believed what she said
Took me for a sucker, boy
All corn-fed
Next thing I knew
She had a bolt on the door
Advance romance
I can't use it no more

She took George's watch
Like they always do
(It was a Timex, too!)
No more money, boy
I shoulda knew
The way she do me, boy
She might do you, too
Advance romance
People I am through!

Potato-head Bobby
Was a friend of mine
Open three of his eyes
In the food stamp line
Open four of his eyes
In the food stamp line
Open five of his eyes
In the food stamp line
Open six of his yes
In the food stamp line
Said she might be a devil
But she sure was fine
Advance romance
He wanna try it one time

Later that night
He drop on by
Told her all he wanna do
Was step up and say "Hi"
Half an hour later
She had frenched his fry
Advance romance
Bobby, say good-bye

Are you with me on this, people?

The man with the woman head
Polynesian wallpaper made the face stand out,
A mixture of Oriental and early vaudeville jazz poofter,
Forming a hard, beetle-like, triangular chin much like a praying mantis.
Smoky razor-cut, low on the ear neck profile.
The face the color of a nicotine-stained hand.
Dark circles collected under the wrinkled, folded eyes,
Map-like from too much turquoise eyepaint.
He showed his old tongue through ill-fitting wooden teeth,
Stained from too much opium, chipped from the years.
The feet, brown wrinkles above straw loafers.
A piece of cocoanut in a pink seashell caught the tongue and knotted into thin white strings.
Charcoal grey Eisenhower jacket zipped into a load of green ascot.
A coil of ashes collected on the white-on-yellow dacs.
Four slender bones with rings and nails endured the weight of a hard fast black rubber cigarette holder.
I could just make out Ace as he carried the tray and mouthed,
"You cheap son of a bitch" as a straw fell out of a Coke, cartwheeled into the gutter.
So this was a drive-in restaurant in Hollywood,
So this was a drive-in restaurant in Hollywood,
So this was a drive-in restaurant in Hollywood.

The Muffin Man is seated at the table
In the laboratory of the Utility Muffin
Research Kitchen...
Reaching for an oversized chrome spoon
He gathers an intimate quantity of dried muffin remnants
And brushing his scapular aside
Proceeds to dump these inside of his shirt. . .
He turns to us and speaks:
"Some people like cupcakes better. I for one
Care less for them!"
Arrogantly twisting the sterile canvas snoot
Of a fully charged icing anointment utensil
He pools forth a quarter-ounce green rosette (oh ah yuk yuk.
Let's try that again...!)
He pools forth a quarter-ounce green rosette
Near the summit of a dense but radiant muffin
Of his own design.
Later he says: "Some people... some people like cupcakes exclusively,
While I myself say there is naughl nor ought there be
Nothing so exalted on the faceof God's grey earth
As that prince of foods... The Muffin!"

Girl you thoughl he was a man
Bul he was a muffin
He hung around lill you found
That he didn't know nuthin'
Girl you thought he was a man
But he only was a-puffin'
No cries is heard in the night
As a result of him stuffin'