Other Lyrics

Other Songs – Lyrics


All lyrics received directly from the band and
are by M. Doughty unless otherwise noted. Publishedby Our
Pal Dolores/WB unless otherwise noted


Unmarked
Helicopters

A source at Warner Brothers has told me that Soul Coughing wrote this song specifically for and about X-Files. They are, apparently, fans of the show. If you listen closely you can hear samples of the show's theme in this song.- Opus

During an interview on 9/16/96 Doughty said, regarding this song:

[It was] written specifically as a comment made as a kinda fairy tale paradigm on the X-Files.

Whose song is that remembered?

At random, surpenting

Throught fatty coils, emerging

some other thought it’s thinking

this light

stands above the

houses

on the ground

this illumination

visited upon the whole land

unmarked helicopters

hovering

the lord is coming soon

here comes the super copter

here comes the noise it makes

the demon was an idea

the demon is awake

scratch mark traced across the

surface of your mind

this hour, now upon us

the hour, now arrived

unmarked helicopters

hovering

the lord is coming soon

unmarked helicopters

hovering

they said it was a weather balloon

but i know the truth

i know the whole shebang

i know the names of men they had to hang

i let her out the trunk

heard what she said at them

they’ve come to drag us through the double M

it goes black black black black and blacker

it goes black black black black and blacker

it goes black black black black and blacker

it goes black black black black and blacker

unmarked helicopters

hovering

the lord is coming soon

unmarked helicopters

hovering

they said it was a weather balloon

it was a weather balloon

it was a weather balloon

it was a weather balloon

it was a weather balloon

it was a weather balloon


MURDER OF
LAWYERS

(Note: These are not the lyrics

of the recorded version, but of an ealier version the band
once performed live. I do not have the lyrics to the
recorded version)

A murder of lawyers in overcoats.

A murder of lawyers in overcoats.

A murder of lawyers in overcoats, shoulders up, heads
slung low, looking like a swarm of M’s swarming the
crosswalk. Looking up at a window on the forty-fourth floor.
Blueeyed Jew Mystic from a rhythm section, his hands cupped
around the dignified hijiki of human speech. Muslim
baritones idle with their hands down.

And the gat that fattens your jacket pocket

Plugs slugs in vain

Through the body of the immaterial witness.

And that which is Ugly and feeds on The Law comes into
the conference room singing federal jargon. Their necks are
covered in chocolatey growths. Spat up an eyeful of steam in
the lumber yard parking lot.

Written in her own shit with a ground down fork.

Written in her own shit with a ground down fork

Written in her own shit with a ground down fork.

Written in her own shit with a ground down fork.


The Bug

WHY I DON’T WANT TO TELL YOU WHAT THE LYRICS TO “THE BUG” ARE – By M. Doughty

We wrote this song in one day, at Fort Apache studios in Boston. Our pal Bil Emmons, who worked as an engineer on the Steve Fisk-produced tracks came up from New York to help out. Yuval got a beat up, Mark got an oscillating-filter-analog-synth thing going, I started fucking around with words. They’re meaningless, really; except for some flirty in-joke references I made to a girl I was dating. I actually cannot remember the bulk of the words. I wrote them on a legal pad and threw them away when I was done. You will never ever know what the actual words are, and in any case, whatever you believe them to be is doubtless three times as interesting as what it actually is. Please, world, leave me the fuck alone about this song, I was big on Batman when I was four and I just wanted to be a part of it, and goddamnit, them Batman people paid us good money and I paid my rent and got the satisfaction of going to the Wal-Mart in Pensacola and seeing that the Batman soundtrack was number six on their chart, and all my Pensacola friends got drunk to celebrate. So the words are useless? Who gives a fuck? I’m just trying to have a good time all the time, mister. Fuck off.

I’m quitting smoking right now. Please excuse me.

Lyrics Unavailable


Bond

M. Doughty w/808
State

[This
Song's Background
]

The trouble is

a single atom

shot at random

random fire

two particles

fused and coupled

once united

multiply

the waves run

underground

electric power

copper wire

some tiny evil

bursts the surface

lays quiet like

insecticide

Slanted, the eyes

and this bonds mind to mind

the risk is mine

and this bonds mind to mind

She says a word

across the ocean

I hear the spit

I hear the sigh

the wavelength

undivided

to drain the fruit

and leave the rind

the shot runs

through her wiring

through her curve

through her spine

to feel an impulse

rising rising

a mess of reason

and kissing eyes.




BUDDHA
RHUBARB BUTTER

[This
song's Background
]

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.


The
Brooklynites

[This Song’s
Background
]

Lyrics Unavailable


Theme From Rachel’s
Sitcom

[This Song’s
Background
]

Rachel’s on the phone

talking to her Mom

Just to wish her a happy Mother’s Day

Rachel’s on the couch

Suckin’ on the bong

Just so she can call her Mom

Rachel’s on the phone

talking to her Mom

“Hi, Mom, it’s me, Rachel.”


Lemon Lime

[This
Song’s Background
]

But I have not seen it now or ever

Women descending on escalators

Coupled with this but also the same thing

Dolled up and spat out

So many deminations

I remember what you tasted like

A gumdrop

Lemon lime

And the numbers

on the rotary dial

Rewinding

Cinnamon driver

Big sexy jerk

Down in the murk

Of your mystery

That's me, swimming

Down in the water at the corner of your eye

That's me, swimming




I'm
Livin' On Baby Food

[This Song’s
Background
]

The young gun, the Long Island Lolitata, the young
gun, the Long Island Lolitata, the young gun, the Long
Island Lolitata, the young gun.

The young gun, the Long Island Lolitata, the young
gun, the Long Island Lolitata, the young gun, the Long
Island Lolitata, the young gun.

The young gun, the Long Island Lolitata, the young
gun, the Long Island Lolitata, the young gun, the Long
Island Lolitata, the young gun.

The young gun, the Long Island Lolitata, the young
gun, the Long Island Lolitata, the young gun, the Long
Island Lolitata, the young gun.

The young gun, the Long Island Lolitata, the young
gun, the Long Island Lolitata, the young gun, the Long
Island Lolitata, the young gun.

Amy!

Amy Fisher!

Amy!

Amy Fisher!

Amy!

Amy Fisher!

Amy!

Amy Fisher!

Long Island Teen

Shot the wife of her alleged former lover.

Long Island Teen

Shot the wife of her alleged former lover.

Long Island Teen

Shot the wife of her alleged former lover.

Long Island Teen

Shot the wife of her alleged former lover.

Amy!

Amy Fisher!

Amy!

Amy Fisher!

Amy!

Amy Fisher!

Amy!

Amy Fisher!

She's a liar! Everything she says is a lie! I'm
livin' on baby food! I'm livin' on baby food!

Amy!

Amy Fisher!

Amy!

Amy Fisher!

Amy!

Amy Fisher!

Amy!

Amy Fisher!




Blow My
Only

[This
Song's Background
]

Send me your muzzle

The one that you been biting on

Go buy some scissors

Cut your duct tape shakles off

Much better now

Much much better now

Max caps and I could blow

My only

On a payphone call to you

I'll pull the zippers down

I will yank the reigns

Long gone and lonesome

In the airport lounge

I must have more thoughts than this


A Plane Scraped Its
Belly On A Sooty Yellow Moon.

We dug the track Roni did, but it took numerous listens for me to really hear the pulse. It was a lot more ‘out’ than we expected it to be. Man, did it impress the boys around the Knitting Factory, though. I don’t know, Roni’s really trying to push his shit further these days–check his mix of U2’s “Mofo”–after the Mercury Prize cometh the Big Bucks–it’s really out, and he freaks those chiming Edge guitar bits really groovily.

All in all, I was happy that we freaked the process for the Spawn soundtrack differently than everybody else did. Rather than getting into some big bucks studio and laying some guitar chords over a techno track, ending up with the lowest common denominator, we went up to Bristol, Yuval recorded some beats in the tiny Full Cycle studio, I wrote some quick poetry and laid it onto tape, Mark sent a DAT of Soul Coughing bits and pieces. Basically, we let Roni sample us, to play us the way he plays everything else he does.

I was gladdened that we were put at the very back end of the CD; like we kind of scared ’em, they had to hide us in the kitchen of their little Yes-Techno-Can-Be-Played-On-Modern-Rock-Radio! world.

Lyrics Unavailable

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