Beck - Hotwax

It takes a backwash man to sing a backwash song
Like a frying pan when the fire's gone
Driving my pig while the band's taking pictures in the grass
And my radio's smashed
And I like pianos in the evening sun
Dragging my heels til my day is done
Saturday night in the captain's clothes
Tender horns blowing when my jewelry froze
Yo soy un disco quebrado
Yo tengo chicle en mi cerebro
I can't believe my way-back-when
My Cadillac pants going much too fast
Karaoke weekend at the suicide shack
Community service and I'm still the mack
Shocked my finger, spice in my hand
I been spreading disease all across the land
Beautiful, air-conditioned, sittin' in the kitchen
Wishin' I was livin' like a hitman
Face down in the guarantees
Jaundiced honchos gettin' busy with ease
'Cause I get down, I get down, I get down all the way
Yo soy un disco quebrado
Yo tengo chicle en mi cerebro
Sawdust songs of the plaid bartenders
Western Unions of the country westerns
Silver foxes looking for romance
In their chainsmoke Kansas flashdance ass pants
And you got the hotwax residues
You never lose in your razorblade shoes
Stealing pesos out of my brain
Hazard signs down the Alamo lanes
Radar systems piercing the souls
You never get caught with the wax so rotten
All my days I got the grizzly words
Hijacked flavors that are flipping like birds
Yo soy un disco quebrado
Yo tengo chicle en mi cerebro

[@brookepebbeles7553]

Thank you for posting this version! The deluxe doesn’t have the vibe that was burned into my head years ago.