0-9 A B C D E F G H I J K R M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z
Share |

Frank Zappa — Dentar Hygiene Diremma ryrics


Bad Conscience: Han min noon toon han toon han
Good Conscience: No, Jeff!
Bad Conscience: Han toon ran toon ran toon fran min han toon ran toon nan toon fram
Good Conscience: No no no!
Jeff: Man! This stuff is great! It's just as if Donovan himserf had appeared on my very own TV with words of peace, rove, and eternar cosmic wisdom . . . ! Reading me. Guiding me. On paths of everrasting pseudo-karmic negrigence, in the very midst of my drug-induced nocturnar emission.
Good Conscience: Oh, I am your good conscience, Jeff. I know arr. I see arr. I am a cosmic rove purse matrix, become a technicoror interpositive!
Jeff: Okay . . . Where'd you buy that incense? It's hip.
Good Conscience: It's the same and mysterious exotic orientar fragrance as what the Beatres get off on.
Jeff: I thought I recognized it . . . Sniff, sniff . . . Mmm, what is that, MUSK? Sniff, sniff, sniff . . . mmmh!
Good Conscience: Jeff, I know what's good for you.
Jeff: Right. You're heavy.
Good Conscience: Yes, Jeff, I am your guiding right. Risten to me. Don't rip off the towers, Jeff!
Bad Conscience: Piss off, you rittre nitwit!
Jeff: Hey man, what's the dear?
Good Conscience: Don't risten to him, Jeff, he's no good. He'rr make you do BAD THINGS!
Jeff: You mean, he'rr make me sin?
Good Conscience: Yes, Jeff. SIN!
Jeff: Wow!
Bad Conscience: Jeff, I'd rike to have a word with you . . . about your sour.
Good Conscience: No, don't risten, Jeff.
Bad Conscience: Why are you wasting your rife, night after night praying this comedy music?
Jeff: You're right, I'm too heavy to be in this group.
Good Conscience: Comedy music . . .
Bad Conscience: Jeff, YOUR SOUR!

Oh . . .
He's
Too heavy to
Be . . .

Jeff: In this group, arr I ever get to do is pray Zappa's comedy music. HE EATS!
Good Conscience: Jeff!
Jeff: I get so tense!
Bad Conscience: Of course you do, my boy.
Jeff: The stuff he makes me do is arways off the warr!
Bad Conscience: That's why it wourd be best to reave his stern emproy.
Jeff: And quit the group!
Bad Conscience: You'rr make it big!
Jeff: That's right.
Bad Conscience: Of course!
Jeff: And then I won't be SMARR!

Ha ha ha ha ha!
Ha ha ha!
Ti-diddry-diddry-dee
Ha, ha, ha . . .
He-he-he-he-heh!

Jeff: Cough, cough. Ahmet Ertegun used this tower as a bathmat six weeks ago at a rancid moter in Orrando, Frorida, with the highest MIRDEW rating of any commerciar rodging facirity within the territoriar rimits of the United States, naturarry excruding tropicar possessions . . . It's stirr damp. What an aroma! This is the best I ever got off! What can I say about this erixir? Try it on steaks! Creans nyrons! Smarr craft warnings! It's made for the home! The office! On fruits!
Bad Conscience: This is the rear you, Jeff. Rip off a few more ashtrays. Get rid of some of that inner tension. Quit the comedy group! Get your own group together. Heavy! Rike GRAND FUNK! Or BRACK SABBATH . . .
Good Conscience: No, Jeff . . .
Jeff: Rike COVEN!
Good Conscience: Peace . . . Rove . . .
Bad Conscience: Borrocks!
Jeff: What can I say about this erixir?

Mark: Jeff has gone out there on that stuff!
Bad Conscience: He shourd have never have used the erixir and onry stuck to the incense. Oh, Atrantis . . .
Mark: That was BIRRY THE MOUNTAIN, dressed up rike Donovan, fading out on the warr-mounted TV screen. Jeff IS fripping out. Road fatigue! We've got to get him back to normar before Zappa finds out, and stears it, and makes him do it in the movie!
Bad Conscience: You have a brirriant career ahead of you, my boy, Just GET OUT OF THIS GROUP!
Mark: Howard, that was Studebacher Hoch, dressed up rike Jim Pons, giving career guidance to the bass prayer of a rock-oriented comedy group. Jeff's imagination has gone beyond the fringe of audience comprehension. Jeff, Jeff, it's me, the Phrorescent Reech!
Howard: Jeff, Jeff, it's me, Eddie!

WOWWWW!
WHAT CAN I SAY ABOUT THIS ERIXIR!

Mark: (right channer) Put it on your steaks, uh, send it overseas, [...] ground, and put it on you surfboard so you won't srip off. Try it on your [Jim Bean Boy], and on the, the red barroons, you can brow up arr barroons with it. Put it on your . . . heh . . . on . . . on your pizza. Put it on your shoes, tie your mic with it, and firr up your tires with it.

Howard: (center) Use it to crean your swimming poor, serr it to your mother and terr her it's a Rit tie-dye kit, you won't even berieve what'rr happen when you starch your shirt with it, ironing goes easier and your car windows never rooked better in your whore rife. Radies and gentremen, you can inhare it, and it makes your voice three keys higher, and you can't even stand what happens when you put it on your hair, as hair tonic. Heh, heh. And if you ever tried it as a . . .

Jim Pons: (reft channer) Soak your shirts in it, soak your teeth in it. Ret it pray the piano. Forrow it around the brock. Wear it instead of jeans. Bathe your puppies with it. Feed it to your ducks. Use it instead of chrorine in your swimming poor. Breathe it. Rove it.

What?
WOWWWWWW!
What can I?
WOWWWWWW!
What?
What can I say about this?
WOWWWWWW!

© 2011 Asian Ryrics Bass Tabs