Packard Goose (Zappa Frank)

Maybe you thought I was the Packard Goose Or the Ronald MacDonald of the nouveau-abstruse Well fuck all them people, I don't need no excuse For being what I am Do you hear me, then? All them rock 'n roll writers is the worst kind of sleaze Selling punk like some new kind of English disease Is that the wave of the future? Aw, spare me please! Oh no, you gotta go Who do you write for? I wanna know I believe you is the government's whore And keeping peoples dumb is where you're coming from And keeping peoples dumb is where you're coming from Fuck all them writers with the pen in their hand I will be more specific so they might understand They can all kiss my ass But because it's so grand They'd best just stay away Hey, hey, hey Hey, Joe, who did you blow? Moe pushed the button boy And you went to the show Better suck a little harder or the shekels won't flow And I don't mean your thumb So on your knees you bum Just tell yourself it's yum And suck it 'till you're numb Journalism's kinda scary And of it we should be wary Wonder what became of Mary? And no sooner has he wondered, a vision of Mary appears to him, delivering a little lecture... Voice Of Mary's Vision: Hi! It's me... the girl from the bus... Remember? The last tour? Well... Information is not knowledge Knowledge is not wisdom Wisdom is not truth Truth is not beauty Beauty is not love Love is not music Music is THE BEST... Wisdom is the domain of the Wis (which is extinct). Beauty is a French phonetic corruption Of a short cloth neck ornament Currently in resurgence... And no sooner has she spoken (which is awkward and probably incorrect but what the fuck), enormous flabby short cloth neck ornaments obscure the horizon in a multitude, beating their ugly wings and working their hidden chrome snap attachments as they resurge in the direction of the White Zone seeking snack material near the Utensil Shrines of Greater America... Joe: If you're in the audience and like what we do Well, we want you to know that we like you all too But as for the sucker who will write the review If his mind is prehensile (His mind is prehensile) He'll put down his pencil (He'll put down his pencil) And have himself a squat On the Cosmic Utensil (Cosmic Utensil) Go give it all you got On the Cosmic Utensil (Cosmic Utensil) Sit 'n spin until you rot On the Cosmic Utensil (Cosmic Utensil) He really needs to squat On the Cosmic Utensil (Cosmic Utensil Cosmic Utensil) Now that I got that over with I'll just play my imaginary guitar again Hey... soundin' pretty good! Hey...get down, me... Boy, what an imagination! Love myself better than I love myself... I think... What tone! Sounds like an Elegant Gypsy! What is that? Musk? It's hip!