Buddha Rhubarb Butter

Please do not modify this document.

Revision #0. February 26, 1997

The Printer Friendly Compilation of

Soul Coughing Song Lyrics

Courtesy of Soul Coughing Underground.

http://www.wbr.com/soulcough/index.html

1) 4 Out Of 5

2) 16 Horses

3) Blow My Only

4) Blueeyed Devil

5) Buddha Rhubarb Butter

6) Bus to Beelzebub

7) Casiotone Nation

8) City of Motors

9) Collapse

10) Disseminated

11) Down to This

12) How Many Cans?

13) I Got to Get Right With This

14) I'm Livin' on Babyfood

15) The Idiot Kings

16) The Incumbent

17) Is Chicago, Is Not Chicago

18) Janine

19) Laugh On Fat Boy

20) Lazybones

21) Lemon Lime

22) Moon Sammy

23) Mr. Bitterness

24) Screenwriter's Blues

25) Soft Serve

26) Soundtrack to Mary

27) Sleepless

28) Sugar Free Jazz

29) Super Bon Bon

30) Supra Genius

31) Tell the Mermaid

32) Theme from Rachel's Sitcom

33) True Dreams of Wichita

34) Uh, Zoom Zip

35) Unmarked Helicopters

36) White Girl

37) Wooly Imbibe

38) You Lucky Dog

Out Of 5

Lyrics:

Her knees thrust in one direction like a symbol of math, a symbol meaning Greater Than.

I come recommended by four out of five, I'm a factor in the whole plan

Four and five therefore nine

Nine and nine therefore eighteen

Eighteen and eighteen therefore thirty-six

Four and five therefore nine

Sometimes I was drifting on a coffee buzz...

Quantify my luck I need a mercy fuck

You crowd me out.

You crowd me out.

Horses

Lyrics:

Fourteen-thousand times a second, the speaker moves.

Magnetism pushes the impulse through.

And I can't keep this speed.

I can't generate that frequency.

What the sound pressure level means, a bunch of randomized electrons I can't read.

And still not dancing...

She came pushing sixteen horses.

Thought I heard, thought I heard, thought I head...thought I heard a doorbell tone.

Thought I saw, thought I saw, thought I saw...you watching from the lawn.

Shimmer over the bridges like the river was a dream, dream.

Two brains, two brains, two brains, clamp, down, put it!

Blow My Only

Lyrics:

Send me your muzzle, the one that you've been biting on.

Go buy some scissors, I'll cut your duck tape shackles off.

I'm much better now,

I'm much much better now.

Max gaps and I could blow my only, low my only.

I want a payphone call to you.

I'll pull the zippers down.

I will yank the reins.

Long gone and lonesome, in the airport lounge.

I must, I must, I must have more thoughts than this.

Blueeyed Devil

Doughty Says: "Scathing indictment of Hall and Oates? No, the story of a white junkie traveling salesman

who overdoes in a motel bathroom. My deepest hope is that this will eventually be railed against on a

Christian cable network. The 'six hundred and sixty six' line revealing my hidden Iron Maiden influence.

'Thirty three degrees' is a reference to the Masons--the highest rank in Masonry being the 33rd. I

remember reading Malcolm X talking about Masons in his autobiography, and him saying something to

the effect of, 'The devil has only 33 degrees of knowledge, Allah has 360.'"

Lyrics:

Blue eyed devil.

Born to be a God among Salesmen. Working the skinny tie.

Slugging down fruit juice. Extra tall extra wide.

33 degrees, six hundred and sixty six

Moving door to door to door.

Stoned motel room.

Nice cool on the bathroom floor.

Ring the alarm. Another Devil's Dying.

Buddha Rhubarb Butter

Lyrics:

As for my single self I had as lief not be as live to be in awe of such a thing as I myself.

As for my own concern I had as think to think as keep on thinking not so hard as for the brain to burn.

And at the salad bar a man he stares into the croutons hypnotized by powers of the Bac-O-Bits.

And I expose myself to stimuli unfit for people outside the controls of an experiment.

Bus to Beelzebub

Doughty Says: "Again, sounds nice, means nothing. But we are, in fact, practicing Satanists."

Lyrics:

Get on to the bus that's gonna take you back to Beelzebub.

Get on to the bus that's gonna make you stop going rub a dub.

Your words burn the air like the names of candy bars.

Your mouth is cold and red all in rings around your laugh laughing laughs.

It's a grind grind, it's a grind, it's a grind grind

I'll scratch you raw

L'etat c'est moi

I drink the drink and I'm wall to wall

I absorb trust like a love rhombus I feel I must elucidate

I ate the chump with guile

Quadrilateral I was now I warp like a smile

Yellow no. 5

Yellow no. 5, 5, 5

Voulez-vous the bus?

Casiotone Nation

Doughty Says: "The five percent nation of fill-in-the-blank. Live, I fill in the blank with whatever comes

into my head at the time. People will come up to me on the street and be like,'Yo, Doughty, the five percent

nation of McNugget.' Once I said the name of a girl I knew and was approached angrily by this other

girl, 'Hey you made her a five percent nation, when are you going to make me a five percent nation?'"

Lyrics:

The five percent Nation of corduroy.

The five percent Nation of Marlboro.

The five percent Nation of pay-per-view.

The five percent Nation of nipple clamps.

The five percent Nation of Milton Bradley.

The five percent Nation of Casiotone.

The five percent Nation of Casiotone.

5, 10, 15, 20, 25, 30, 35, 40, 45, 50, 55, 60, 65, 70, 75, 80, 85, 90, 95, 100!

The People's Republic of Lake Edna.

The People's Republic of S.A.S.E.

The People's Republic of lemony fresh.

The People's Republic of chocolaty delicious.

The People's Republic of lumps in my oatmeal.

The People's Republic of Casiotone.

Yor, Yor, he's a man, he's a man.

Everybody's movin'

Everybody's movin', movin', movin', movin'...

1 2 3, 4 5 6, 7 8 9, 10 11 12.

The five percent Nation of Harmful Free Radicals.

The five percent Nation of Oxygen Cocktails.

The five percent Nation of Casiotone.

City of Motors

Doughty Says: "An actual narrative! A girl is looking into a pool of oil in a gutter that's streaming from

a wrecked car. She sees the reflection of the moon in the oil, and then the silhouette of a burglar over

the moon as he jumps from one building to the other. The moral: don't smoke in gas stations."

Lyrics:

Three times dark, first in the mind.

Second on Java street, the dead car there.

The hood blown off with a BB gun.

Manuela said she saw the brakes fail.

An empty body but it still bled

Oil from the axle and it left a trail.

Ran down Java street and formed a pool.

Manuela saw the moon in there.

I hear a rumbling. I hear transmission grind.

I bear witness. I have the clutch now.

Three times dark, third on the rooftops;

Man jumps between and grabs the rail.

Man pulls the door but the door is locked.

Man gouge the hinge and goes down the stairs.

Dull bright morning and the tools are gone.

Detectives with flashlights in the elevator shaft.

Manuela tells detectives she saw him there.

Stuck in the hinge is a sliver of a fingernail.

Stack of tools in the Oldsmobile.

From the Motor City to the City of Dis.

They trace his travel by his credit card.

No sleep, smokes, and he's nauseous.

Flicks an ash like a wild loose comma.

Ash hits the oil around the pump.

Travels to the pump and the pump explodes.

Witness said he saw the car jump.

Collapse

Doughty Says: "It's about a record company executive that is murdered by a whore in a hotel room,

juxtaposed by a large aggressive company taking over a smaller company."

Lyrics:

Mid-level manager says he heard about some mulatto girl shot him in the mouth

and left him a hotel near the mid-south offices.

He worked in distribution, regional vice-president

Collapse, unload it, pop! pop! I must accumulate, unload it, Pop! Pop! I must accumulate

Well the soil is rich, competition fat

Ripe and vulnerable, oozing from the slats

And too cash-heavy, bloated, sitting there all puckered up

Index of numbers is scrolling upscreen, scrolling up

Smash it down to digits, gut it out and break it down

Liquid assets are seeping down, seeping down now.

Disseminated

Doughty Says: "There's a bunch of names listed in the second verse of people that I met on a vacation

in Jamaica."

Lyrics:

The Goat chewed up once a tin can

The Goat shat out was a Ford Sedan

Like an eyeball, like a square cut

Like a funny car, like a monster truck

Call up bop and I'm bunting stomach, Koko mop I chop chunking plummet

Thud on top, I ate the Chocodile

And ever since then, I got disseminated

The Jupiter Moon, I got disseminated

The Average Man, I got disseminated

It's a self-fulfilling prophecy.

Toots Hibbert at the wrong prom serves a beat down on a tom tom

Like Genius, like Dervin, like Joseph, like Jason.

Down to This

Doughty Says: "I had a job working at a club called The Knitting Factory as a doorperson. One night,

zooted no doubt, I was selling tickets as another person checked names off the guest list, and I started

chanting, 'I got the tickets and you got the list!' much to the annoyance of my co-worker. Finding this

not particularly songworthy, we tried out a couple of soundalikes in rehearsal, my favorite of which was

'You get Jim Backus and I'll get Koresh.' We finally settled on 'You get the ankles and I'll get the wrists,'

and it evolved into (don't slap me) a song about throwing an externalized conception of oneself off a

building. We still hear many happy misinterpretations of this one, the most common of which is 'You get

the eggrolls and I'll get the rice.'"

Lyrics:

You get the ankles and I'll get the wrists.

You come down to this

Nerves are up and the eyes are all screwy.

Blood like a panful of boiling ratatouille.

Muscles in a mess like a mess of spahgetti.

Hack through the mess with a greased-up machette.

Hang from the axles of a box car. Follow the dotted line.

Like a steer to Chicago, to the hooks of the Chicago man

I get all tripped up, my eyes turn to water

rug burns from a shag rug, struck dumb in the presence

polyester burns from a jacket rub the skin

break down in a diner then I pay the bill.

Cashier toothpick stuck in the ground.

Tiny lawnmower to mow me down.

I could get lost in a lunchbox, lie low in the mittens in the lost and found.

12) How Many Cans?

Lyrics:

Is you am a dog? Is you got a dog? Is you am a dog? Hold closed the jaw.

How many cans must I stack up to wash you out of my mind, out of my consciousness?

How many times must I cash out to bring you back the check, fat off of my slenderness?

She says Yeah, But he's not in right now.

You pause.

You like her answer.

You know that but you go on.

Slenderness,

Fire.

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