Brown Shoes Dont Make It in Album Tinseltown Rebellion Lyrics by Frank Zappa

Brown Shoes Dont Make It in Album Tinseltown Rebellion Lyrics

    Frank zappa (lead guitar, vocals)
    Ike willis (rhythm guitar, vocals)
    Ray white (rhythm guitar, vocals)
    Steve vai (rhythm guitar, vocals)
    Warren cucurullo (rhythm guitar, vocals)
    Denny walley (slide guitar, vocals)
    Tommy mars (keyboards, vocals)
    Peter wolf (keyboards)
    Bob harris (keyboards, trumpet, vocals)
    Ed mann (percussion)
    Arthur barrow (bass, vocals)
    Vinnie colaiuta (drums)

    Brown shoes don't make it
    Brown shoes don't make it
    Quit school, why fake it
    Brown shoes don't make it
    Tv dinner by the pool
    Watch your brother grow a beard
    Got another year of school
    You're okay, he's too weird
    Be a plumber
    He's a bummer
    He's a bummer every summer
    Be a loyal plastic robot
    For a world that doesn't care
    That's right
    Smile at every ugly
    Shine on your shoes and cut your hair

    Be a jerk - go to work
    Be a jerk - go to work
    Be a jerk - go to work
    Be a jerk - go to work
    Do your job, and do it right
    Life's a ball
    Tv tonight
    Do you love it
    Do you hate it
    There it is
    The way you made it

    A world of secret hungers
    Perverting the men who make your laws
    Every desire is hidden away
    In a drawer in a desk by a naugahyde chair
    On a rug where they walk and drool
    Past the girls in the office

    Hratche-plche, hratche-plche
    Hratche-plche...

    We see in the back
    Of the city hall mind
    The dream of a girl about thirteen
    Off with her clothes and into a bed
    Where she tickles his fancy
    All night long

    His wife's attending an orchid show
    She squealed for a week to get him to go
    But back in the bed his teen-age queen
    Is rocking and rolling and acting obscene
    Baby baby...
    Baby baby...

    Gimme them cakes now, uh!
    If i do, i'm gonna lose my...

    And he loves it, he loves it
    It curls up his toes
    She wipes his fat neck
    And it lights up his nose
    But he cannot be fooled
    Old city hall fred
    She's nasty, she's nasty
    She digs it in bed
    That's right

    Do it again, ha
    And do it some more
    Hey, that does it, by golly
    And she's nasty for sure
    Nasty nasty nasty
    Nasty nasty nasty
    Only thirteen, and she knows how to nasty
    She's a dirty young mind, corrupted
    Corroded
    Well she's thirteen today
    And i hear she gets loaded
    If she were my daughter, i'd...
    What would you do, frankie?
    Well, if she were my daughter, i'd...
    What would you do, frankie?
    If she were my daughter, i'd...
    What would you do, frankie?
    Check this out
    Smother my daughter in chocolate syrup
    And strap her on again, oh baby
    Smother that girl in chocolate syrup
    And strap her on again
    She's my teen-age baby
    She turns me on
    I'd like to make her do a nasty
    On the white house lawn
    Smother my daughter in chocolate syrup
    And boogie 'til the cows come home

    Time to go home
    Madge is on the phone
    Gotta meet the gurneys and a dozen grey attorneys
    Tv dinner by the pool
    I'm so glad i finished school
    Life is such a ball
    I run the world from city hall

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