Get all 10 Worm Quartet releases available on Bandcamp and save 25%.
Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality downloads of Carpe Tedium, Take The Fire Back (Prometheus Has Left The Building), The Pac-Man EP, Entire Dog, Fueled By Angst, Songs of the Maniacs, Mental Notes, Faster Than A Speeding Mullet, and 2 more.
1. |
I'm Not A Girl
05:24
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went to a Karaoke bar with my friend Coffee
In a small New England hick and junkie town
We mesmerized the crowd with our rendition of “I Touch Myself”
Ordered up a couple bottles and sat down
There was this older guy sitting way across the bar
He was giving me a weird obnoxious stare
And I couldn't really tell if he wanted to kick my ass
Or if he just thought he knew me from somewhere
(musical interlude of doom)
He finally stumbled over (and) told us 'bout his catholic mother
We could tell he'd had a drink or twenty-three
So when he called me "her" I just assumed it was a tongue slip
That was courtesy of Mister Jackie D
Coffee let the dam break and let loose a tide of bullshit
'Bout his altar boy indiscretions back in the day
The guy just nodded drunkenly and put his arm around me
And said "Where'd you meet this big girl anyway?"
My stunned brain regressed to Grover teaching me 'bout "near" and "far"
And the latter seemed quite preferable to staying in this bar
So I deftly ducked and covered from the boozing loser's grasp
Wished him luck on his ambiguity and started hauling ass
I'm not a girl (I'm not a girl)
I'm not a girl (I'm not a girl)
If long hair's all it takes to fool you
Then you must have skipped biology, avoided sociology
And probably bypassed puberty too
I'm not a girl (I'm not a girl)
I'm not a girl (I'm not a girl)
Have you ever seen a female anyhow?
Cuz if women looked like me, I think the porno industry
Would be filing for bankruptcy by now
I'm not a girl!
I was at a drive-thru shouting product names at a speaker
(yelled) "Just a value chicken sandwich and two pies"
(distorted response "Thank you drive through")
And an Oxy-basted numbskull in a giant NASA headset
Said "Here you go, a large coke and large fries."
I shook my head politely and I restated my order
And he looked at me as if this was a scam
He re-studied his order screen, re-held the foodstuffs out to me
And shrugged and muttered "That's what it says, ma'am."
Was I s'posed to just accept my lot, and take the proffered swill?
For the Mighty Screen hath spoken, who am I to doubt its will?
I just told him "I don't give a fuck what's on your CRT
"Can you even read it anyway when you can't even see
I'm not a girl (I'm not a girl)
I'm not a girl (I'm not a girl)
How the holy hell can't you see that?
Sure my chest has got some perk, that don't mean my nipples work
I can't lactate, buddy, I'm just fat!
I'm not a girl (I'm not a girl)
I'm not a girl (I'm not a girl)
Don't you know about the birds and bees?
What in God's name must I do, just to get this through to you?
Should I walk around with my pants around my knees?
I'm not a girl!
My build is not petite, I've got awkward hanging meat
I can wipe myself any way I choose
I don't need no medication to inhibit procreation
And I don't listen to Dave Matthews
I get no joy from shoppin’ and you won’t catch me she-boppin’
Though I’m turnin’ Japanese most every night (I really think so!)
When my sub-torso region’s ill, I buy Cruex not Vagisil
To alleviate the evil fungal blight (All Right) (All Right)
I was stuck in K-Mart while my wife was trying clothes on
Which is oftentimes a fate worse than a briss
When I heard a hobbling 80something woman from behind me
In a nasal voice say "Miss? Excuse me, miss?"
I turned around and gave the bitch a look that could melt a poodle
In the hope that this would make my gender clear
Undeterred she gave me that impatient retail shopper look
And said "Excuse me miss, do you work here?"
What drugs does Medicare provide to make one think that it's the norm
For a Dead Kennedys shirt and jeans to be a K-Mart uniform?
As confusion turned to anger and I felt the bile flow
I let loose a veangeful mad retort, the gist of which was...
"Um...no."
I'm not a girl (I'm not a girl)
I'm not a girl (I'm not a girl)
Don't you dare make me whip out my gland
I don't hang with my friends in malls, I've never played with Barbie dolls
'Least not without a lighter in my hand
I'm not a girl (I'm not a girl)
I'm not a girl (I'm not a girl)
I'm bitchy but it isn't PMS
Not a teardrop did I show, when they drowned DiCaprio
I was still thinking 'bout Kate Winslet's breasts
I'm not a girl (I'm not a girl)
I'm not a girl (I'm not a girl)
You'll seldom see me wearing pantyhose
Go ahead an x-ray me, you won't find one ovary
If Oprah likes a book, I know it blows
I'm not a girl (I'm not a girl)
I'm not a girl (I'm not a girl)
...
(fade out eventually)
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2. |
C Is For Lettuce
03:24
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I've listened to you bitch, I've listened to you whine
But you couscous-eating yuppie jerks have gone too far this time
Your kids are getting fatter and the outlook's rather bleak
Despite you putting them on three fad diets every week
So do you take the blame, and make a change at home?
No, dammit, you're American! You're born to bitch and moan!
And just like every problem, your solution is the same:
Your v-chipped cable-ready babysitter is to blame!
Cuz every single character in every single show
Must be shaped and molded perfectly to help your children grow
Cuz if they're not ideal role models and beacons for good health
You might just have to be one yourself!
And who has time for that?
So with your pen of judgement, you turn on your TV
Prepared to write down ev-e-ry indecency you see
(There's) a googly-eyed Muppet with a coat of navy blue
He grabs a plate of something...hey, that don't look like tofu!
And with a ghastly "ahm nahm nahm" the cookies disappear
And suddenly the reason for your offspring's size is clear
This glut'nous monster’s brainwashed them and driven them to gorge!
Someone must stop this Toll-House-fueled sloth-inducing scourge!
Because you're far too busy, you can't teach your kids to see
That reality is different from what's broadcast on TV
So you know that they'll just emulate the things the puppets do
And that might reflect badly on you!
So now you're
Screaming for the blood of the cookie monster
Evil puppet demon of obesity
Time to change the tune of his fearful ballad
C is for "Lettuce," that's good enough for me
Well now you start to think, your kid may be depressed
Even though each day he sees a different therapist
So you go to his classroom, which is looking rather stark
Cuz their funds were voted down last year to build a baseball park
The teacher says he's failing English, history and math
And suddenly it's clear what's led him down his darkening path
You can't call it "Failing!" That's such a scathing word!
We'll just call it "Success that's temporarily deferred!"
Cuz language can be powerful, to raise and to depress
That's why we no longer have "Shell Shock" we’ve got "Post-traumatic stress"
And the only way to keep our precious darlings out of jail
Is to make them think that they can never fail!
So now you're
Screaming for the blood of the underpaid teacher
After all your taxes pay her yearly 12 G
You can't change the world, so just change what you call it
F is for "Almost," that's good enough for me
No one understands just how brutal you have it
You wake up each morning and have to fight traffic
Then spend all day chained to your laptop and beeper
Kiss some client’s ass and then play some minesweeper
Then hightail it over to your yoga lessons
Then lattes, pilates, and therapy sessions
Where you whine and ramble and dab your eyelids
And complain that you never get time with your kids
You've bitched your yuppie heart out, and meddled with the best
But your brooding fatass offspring keeps deferring his success
So what the hell's the problem? It surely can't be you!
It must be all the violence on his new PlayStation 2!
Look at this atrocity! There's hoodlums, thugs, and skanks
And chronic-tokin' gangstas running hookers down with tanks
There's nudity and blood and guts and chainsaws cutting people
And that's just in the new updated 3-D Tetris sequel!
And sure there's labels on the games that say that they're "mature"
But now honestly, just who the hell reads labels anymore?
Tell me wouldn't it be easier for parents 'cross the land
If games that aren't for kids were all just banned?
Now you're
Screaming for the blood of the game programmer
Gaming should just be a children's industry
Pixellated actors should be role models
"M" is for "Censored," that's good enough for me
Screaming for a new place to point your finger
Won't rest 'til the whole world is rated "PG"
Don't stop to think what those letters really stand for
"M" is for "Censored"
"F" is for "Almost"
"C" is for "Lettuce," that's good enough for me
( NOTE: No, my fellow Windows programmers, there is no significance to the “MFC” reference above.)
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3. |
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Kill your neighbor, kill your brother, kill your sister
Kill your parents, kill your teachers, kill yourself
Sculpt a statue of the devil with your feces
Shit fuck death beer!
Shit fuck death beer!
Carve a pentagram into your neighbor’s poodle
Staple gerbils to the face of every nun you see
Murder everyone and send me all your money
Shit fuck death beer!
Shit fuck death beer!
Rape your mother, get her pregnant, kill the baby
Set the church on fire and use the flames to light your crack pipe
All the cool kids sacrifice their cats to Satan
Shit fuck death beer!
Shit fuck death beer!
Turn your hat and show your undies like a gangsta
Put your homework off until the very day it’s due
Girls will fuck you if you drink right from the milk jug
Shit fuck death beer!
Shit fuck death beer!
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4. |
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Bob:
Kenneth, Kenneth, Kenneth.
Ken:
That's my name, sir, spoken thrice
Bob:
There's a foulness wafting from your
fowl-enclosure device
Ken:
Surely crap you must be speaking!
Bob:
That's the stench of which I speak
Ken:
And from whence hath this stench cometh?
Bob:
From that critter with the beak
Ken:
There's no stench that I can sense, Bob
Bob:
Hath thy nostrils gone insane?
Hath thy stench-sensing synapses
Leapt from out thy troubled brain?
Nay, proximity for long terms
Must have dulled thy senses, Ken
For I smell it now, and when I sniff
I smell it once again
Both:
Your bird smells, your bird smells
Don't you know your bird smells
Your bird smells, your bird smells
Don't you know your bird smells
Ken:
The olfactory offenses, Bob,
that you insinuate
Could they not be from the fumes
Produced digesting what you ate?
For the nose mayhap which smelt it
Verily could be attached
To the anus which hath dealt it
Check thy briefs, sir, for a patch!
Bob:
Why, how dare ye, Ken, you bastard,
Ne'er a stench so ripe and foul
Hath erupted from the depths of
Any mortal human bowel!
Let alone those that I call my own
Oh Ken, you caustic cad!
Ken:
Bob, your shit don't smell like roses
Bob:
Yeah, but Ken, it ain't that bad
Both:
Your bird smells, your bird smells
Don't you know your bird smells
Your bird smells, your bird smells
Don't you know your bird smells
Bob:
Look upon your addled parrot
Was it your intent to scare it
When you lined its cage with lyrics
By Rob Zombie and Syd Barrett?
Cuz it did what anything would do
In quarters such as these
Unleashed its bowels' contents
With no small degree of ease
Ken:
Is it really necessary
To critique my aviary
By the way of nasal passages
both mucasy and hairy
Bob:
No inspection was conducted
I just merely passed it by
And the stench, Ken, did affront
The very laws the nose lives by
because
Your bird smells, your bird smells
Don't you know your bird smells
Your bird smells, your bird smells
Don't you know your bird smells
Bob:
Kenneth, Kenneth, Kenneth
Kenneth:
Bob, your voice doth feed my rage
Bob:
Get thy stench from off thy pet, sir!
Kenneth:
Get thy nose from out my cage!
For this pesudo-foppish discourse
Now hath reached its ending line
Bob:
May thy testes, then, explodeth!
Kenneth:
And may thee, Bob, choke on thine!
Both:
Your bird smells, your bird smells
Don't you know your bird smells
Your bird smells, your bird smells
Don't you know your bird smells
Your bird smells, your bird smells
Don't you know your bird smells
Your bird smells, your bird smells
Don't you know your bird sodding smells
Oh my!
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5. |
Dandelions Suck
00:37
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Dandelions suck
They just take up the grass
I’d like to pick those fuckers up
And kick ‘em in the ass
Dandelions suck
They’re something we don’t need
They think they’re pretty flowers
But they’re just a fucking weed
Mommy had a baby and its head popped off…
(lather, rinse, repeat)
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6. |
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7. |
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You told me you could slice through a horse with your face
You claimed that you could see through solid pork
You said you could communicate telepathically with waffles
You told me you impregnated a spork
But you were wrong
You were wrong
I checked your story on the Internet, it didn't take too long
To analyze the lies that you did spew
And confidently prove that you
Were wrong, Cabinet Sanchez, you were wrong
You said Bisquick was used as currency in Abu Dhabi
You told me you ate Sandy Duncan's eye ("Eye! Eye! Eye!")
You said you could tell the capacity of a hard drive by the odor
You told me smoking plankton makes you high
But you were wrong
You were wrong
Though you did convince some losers to put sea life in their bong
I've found that everything you say you do
Just drives home the point that you
Were wrong, Cabinet Sanchez, you were wrong
When ever you proceed to o-
-pen up your stinkin' yap
The flies nearby just multiply
Cuz they can smell the crap
And every single syllable
You utter seems to be
Just such pure fiction, it must have been
Extracted rectally
You told me sentient cumberbuns once tried to eat your nipples
You said you joined an Olympic drooling team
You told me you once shared a urinal with three Ghostbusters
And destroyed the bathroom when you crossed the streams
But you were wrong
You were wrong
And now your fictional adventures are immortalized in song
And I hope I make a buck or two
From this tune about how you
Were wrong, Cabinet Sanchez, you were wrong
Yeah, every time you claimed that you
Played strip Pac-Man with the Who
Drank a quart of Selson Blue
Had hot sex with Pikachu
Made a bee and mayonnaise stew
Saw the pope do number two
Caaaabinet Sanchez you were
Caaaabinet Sanchez you were
Wrong, Cabinet Sanchez, you were WRONG!
(And your name is stupid.)
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8. |
Princess of Ohio
00:10
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Everyone’s the princess of Ohio
Even Ed Meese?
Especially Ed Meese.
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9. |
Drugs and Masturbation
02:01
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Music and Lyrics by Rev. N0rb.
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10. |
Corn
00:14
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Oh you can’t wear corn to a funeral
No you can’t wear corn to a funeral
Everyone’s impressed with your chicken nugget dress
But you can’t wear corn to a funeral, Mr. President.
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11. |
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You smell like philosophy! I prance through a field of electric genitalia and invisible condiments, but gelatinous oven mitts and cellophane pancakes just keep humping rainbows. Nobody wears goggles to church anymore. Are you gargling your xylophone at the masturbating burrito parade? Oh no! This paste is NEAT! The poodle of harm is destroying your arm while the toastlord chisels panties into clichés. C’mon, Jesus! Get out your wigglin’ boots! Pudding is to justice as atheism is to the sound of a crepe-infested bellhop trying to glaze nine mice with a one-mouse glazing wand. Excessive yak-strumming can only lead to podiatry, but cultivating rectal atrocities makes it easier to alphabetize your shredded pets. When the batteries that fuel your carrot become the horse that won’t pucker, only then shall the pope become properly funky. I’ve just been elected Delaware! If the electric superduck disavows its own uvula and you’re really a collection of sentient clothespins held together by the wet dreams of our forefathers, then I want a receipt! C’mon, France, can’t you explode just a little? This wax replica of Barbra Streissand’s left penis proves that my maiden name is Julio P. Throb-o-tron. Stop impersonating my hairline! Your monkey had much better manners before it was on fire. Is your tugboat boneless or are we still excreting conical sorcerers? The liverless know not of diesel, and yet the moon is politely farting scriptures into the goat puddle while the drooling ambassadorof stapler vomit has found a new way to turn condoms into bouillon! Let’s blame pumpernickel for apostrophes! I can’t schmuck-proof my mayonnaise until you admit that Mormons lick skates. Don’t even tell me you glued your urethra to another panther! Lend me your groin! Butter your shovel! Peel your apostles! Lubricate your acoustic waitress-hammer on a bed of boiled muppets! Taste the unfiltered nonchalance of my vine-ripened culinder of pain! Marvel with soup-induced rage at my breathtaking lack of lumber or one day everything you’ve ever secreted will come back! You can neuter most of Skeletor with beans, and you can traipse like a tampon recycler through Iowa’s most cheeseless gnomeyard, but you can’t bathe pirates in Tucker Carlson’s nipples. Hey! Don’t eat my Jews!
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12. |
I've Got A Wife
02:24
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I'm 6 foot four three hundred pounds a chunk a bulgin' love
A couple chins below my head, a mullet perched above
A software engineer by trade, pure geeky through and through
I can quote Stroustrup or Douglas Adams 'til my face turns blue
Now you would think with stats like these that I'd find no affection
'cept within the crackling pages of an old Penthouse collection
But the Gods of love and logic must have been off for a day
Cuz a real live woman married me, and she seems inclined to stay
I often find it stunning
It seems to disagree
To everything I've ever seen
In movies or TV
Where the fat kid gets no fanfare
And his minor wins are muffled
So this victory's for every nerd
Who's ever truffle shuffled
Cuz I've got a wife where my porn should be
My porn should be
My porn should be
I've got a wife where my porn should be
My porn should be oh yeah
My comic book collection hits the ceiling of my room
It's a techie-haven basement lair that's never seen a broom
Where I P2P and RPG and swear I'll never rest
'Til every console I own emulates the Atari VCS (Kim: Why?)
Screeching Weasel and Weird Al stare at me from my walls
A sump pump in the corner helps me cope when nature calls (Not really)
Now take this mental image, and keep it in your head
But where the blow-up doll belongs, insert a girl instead
A mind with any sanity
This fact is sure to vex
I've got John DeLancie's autograph
But also I've had sex
These hands that solder circuitry
And code in SunOS
Have also felt the fleshy touch
Of human female breasts
Cuz I've got a wife where my porn should be
My porn should be
My porn should be
I've got a wife where my porn should be
My porn should be oh yeah
(x 2?)
I've got a wiiiiife where my porn should be
I've got a wiiiiife where my porn should be
(repeated)
Me: For more information about my wife, please consult the song 'My Wife' from my third full-length CD
'Faster Than a Speeding Mullet,' available as we speak from wormquartet.com.
Kim: That's a cheap plug
Me: It's not a plug. It's a bibliography.
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13. |
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Jimmy had a punk band
They were notorious for fitting the name of a female body part in every song
Their demo tape,"Rape-a-saurus," featured tracks like "Kill The Dutch" and "Suck On My Tumor, Bitch"
They signed to a major
And the kids loved their stuff when they went on tour with New Found Glory
They were carving a new niche, opening doors for raunch rock, and the Meatmen reformed again
But Jimmy started hanging out with Jello Biafra
And Dee Dee Ramone's will bequeathed him all of his drugs
Then he teamed up with Enya and traded his guitar for a lute and a Casio
And put out his new age concept album "Tears of Bin Laden: A Jihad Of Love"
He said "I want to be taken seriously as an artist
"There's more to me than you've ever seen, I'm not limited by your perception
"I want to be taken seriously as an artist"
"I still wear that big spiked strap-on on stage, but as a metaphor for U.S. oppression
Fifi was a pop star
She rocked the headset mic and shook her supposedly natural wink-wink-nudge-nudge "virgin" mombags
The Billboard top 40 was packed with 38 of her tracks and a couple new Tupac songs
With hits like "Let's Not Ruin It By Doin' It" and "I'm Not Ready To Hold Hands Yet"
She had her name on lunchboxes, posters and t-shirts and perfumes and golf balls and pruning shears
Then she decided the world wanted to see the real Fifi
Who was apparently a skin-flashing whore who'd gladly do anyone
She dated Marilyn Manson, dumped him for Madonna, dumped her for the corpse of Curt Cobain
She'd show up on the red carpet, wearing nothing but a thong and two well-placed wads of chewing gum
She said "I want to be taken seriously as an artist
"And you can only achieve true artist status by banging everyone in your respective scene
"I want to be taken seriously as an artist
"I can't be a good girl forever, I mean, my gawd I'm almost 15!"
If I linger 'round too long, will this desire catch up with me?
Will there be "An Evening of Worm Quartet with the London Symphony?"
Will "Worm Quartet Unplugged" be a reality someday?
Will it just be me smacking buttons on my keyboard and bitching that the damned
thing just won't play?
Fifi formed a punk band
Made up of studio musicians with models to play them in her videos
Somehow her fanbase was left behind
Jimmy is a pop star
Shirtless on Seventeen, posing and pouting and singing with his new boy band
Somehow his fanbase was left behind
They said "We want to be taken seriously as artists
"If you don't like our new stuff, then you're not real fans, we never needed you anyway
"We want to be taken seriously as artists
"But in a few years, we'll crawl back to our roots, to make sure we don't fade away
"And we'll see you again someday
"We'll see you again someday
"When our fortunes are pissed away
"In a small club in east L.A.
"Opening for Worm Quartet!"
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14. |
You Will Go To The Moon
02:14
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Worm Quartet Rochester, New York
New album "Carpe Tedium" available now!
