Packard Goose Lyrics - Joe's Garage Acts I, Ii & Iii - Frank Zappa

Frank Zappa (lead guitar, vocals) 

Warren Cucurullo (rhythm guitar, vocals) 

Denny Walley (slide guitar, vocals) 

Ike Willis (lead vocals) 

Peter Wolf (keyboards) 

Arthur Barrow (bass, vocals) 

Ed Mann (percussion) 

Vinnie Colaiuta (drums) 

Joe: (clutching the hood ornament of an ancient car) 

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? 

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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 

Photos 

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!