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NOFX
NOFX


Информация
Откуда Los Angeles, Southern California, United States
Жанры Punk Rock
Ska punk
Melodic Hardcore
Hardcore Punk
Годы 1983—н.в.
Лейблы Fat Wreck Chords
Epitaph Records
Сайт Website
Состав
Fat Mike
El Hefe
Eric Melvin
Erik Sandin
Бывшие участники
Dave Allen
Scott Sellers
Scott Aldahl
Dave Casillas
Steve Kidwiller



Альбом NOFX


White Trash, Two Heebs And A Bean (1992)
1992
1.
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11.
12.
13.
. . .


Sometimes I feel my life is going 'round in circles
Beneath my eyes are bluish black
There's nothing new, no one I wanna talk to
Nothing I wanna think about, I got soul doubt

I stick my head out of the window, it's closed
Instead of air, I get glass stuck in to my head
The city's sounding, and I can't seem to stop the pounding
Can't keep my thoughts from flying 'round
Can't keep my thoughts from flying 'round
Not sure what I am thinking about, I got soul doubt

A shameless display, wearing a smile full of pain
A frameless Erte, a painting without a signature
She's waiting for someone to save her
As I pass her by I see Cinderella

She doesn't fit into the slipper
Like she fits in a bottle of liquor
There's no one to take her away
Her eyes meet mine, she sees right through me
The question is asked, Whatcha' gonna do for me?
I don't want nothin', just a connection
I gotta know what she's all about
Cause I know she's been there, soul doubt

I stick my head out of the window once again
This time I see a thousand faces all too clear
They wear the same expression, I've seen in my face
So many times, I know exactly how they feel
I know exactly how they feel
I know just what they think about
They've got soul doubt

. . .


when i look around i only see outta one eye
as the smoke surrounds my head (the sauna)
i hear the voices but i cant make out the words
sayin things, sayin things that i
got somethin stickin in my eye
got somethin stickin in my eye
got somethin stickin in my eye

i feel unusual from thinkin
bout the underground decay (god help me)
kill beneath the camera, watch the world begin to cry
its not from pity
it comes from whats been stickin in my eye
got somethin stickin in my eye
got somethin stickin in my eye
got somethin stickin in my eye
got somethin stickin in
got somethin stickin in
got somethin stickin in my eye

. . .


He spent 15 years getting loaded
15 years till his liver exploded
what's Bob gonna do
Now that he cant drink?
The Doctor said: "Whatcha been thinkin bout?"
Bob said : "Thats the point. I won't think bout nothing.
Now I gotta do something else
(Oi! Oi! Oi!)
To pass the time
Had someone shave his head
He got a new identity
62 hole air cushioned boots
And a girl who rides a scooter
To take him out of town
They would get away
Runnin around
And as the trucks drive by
You can hear the mother fuckers go "PUNK!"

A couple of lines, an extra thermos of joe
He'll be kickin in heads at the punk rock show
Bob's the kinda guy who knows just what
Bob's the kinda guy who knows just what to do
When the doctor tells him to
Quit your drinkin, nows the time
will he ever walk the line?
To all my friends I feel just great
will he ever walk the line?

Kickin ass, & bustin heads
Red suspenders
Once a day he shaves his head
But will he ever walk the line?(x4)

(skating/beetboping for a bit)
Bob!

. . .


You've got the beauty, but that don't mean a thing
A bland reciprocation, but that dosen't bother me
You're happier with lights on underneath a darkened sky
Only in the spotlight can you tell me of your crimes
I understand the situation, but I can't
Seem to understand the motivations you once had
I recall a message I once left behind a screen
I was entranced, when you were never there for me
You're draining, you're draining me, I'm not a tub
What ever happened to the girl I used to hold?
I held in such a high regard
Where is the girl who had it all?
I used to think I wasn't worthy of your cause
I used to feel so lucky
Until the day I felt a weakness in my arms
I knew from where it had been coming
You're bleeding, you're bleeding me, I can recall
The passions you once had, where did they go?
I knew a girl who had it all?
I knew a girl where did she go?

. . .


I'm a person just like you
But I've got better things to do
Than sit around and fuck my head
Hang out with the living dead
Snort white shit up my nose
Pass out at all the shows
cause I've got the straight edge

Laugh at the thought of droppin ludes
Laugh at the thought of sniffing glue

cause I've got the straight edge

Oh, I've got the straight edge

. . .


Liza's had enough of men
She said she wonґt get burnt again
She says they donґt know how to fuck
Her last boyfriend the schmuck
Shared with her a nice disease
Kept her passive on her knees
'til one day she took his car
And drove it to the city

Liza had put down a few
When she met this girl named Lou
Who convinced her to go home with her
She said "My nameґs Louise
Now, will you take your clothes off please
I wanna take you to the moon and back
So get on your back"

With a flick of the tounge
She made her scream, she made her laugh, she made her dance
She was happy for the first time
And you know, she wanted more

Now with her legs spread wider
She needed to have Louise inside her
She said "I never forget the first time you kissed me
Now I want you to fist me"
Louise didnґt need a second invitation
She knew just what to do
Yeah she knew just what to do

Liza had cum a few times before
But sheґd never ever seen the door
Into the world of pleasures of the flesh
She felt just like sixteen
And her life before now was a dream
Or even a nightmare, thatґs over and done
Just like warm healing rays shining from the sun

She made her beam, she made her laugh, she made her dance
She was happy for the first time
And you know, she wanted more
You know, she wanted more

. . .


Endless evenings of non-exist
Are getting shorter, monotonous
Like an intruder, I belong outside
Although I find myself right back
The same place I was before
Saying things I'd say once more
There's no reason for me to be here, no
I feel so lonesome, surrounded by friends
Who are talking about me, saying things I could care less about
This dialogue is without
Worth, content, significance
Conversational ambivalence
Hear the same things every night, it just ain't right
I'm not the one to hold the bag
Give me something I can sink my teeth into
Show me a time, tell me a story
That I haven't heard a million times before
I pass out from boredom
As I watch the people pass
I see moments in their lives, nothing fascinating
Are we all living for the past, never realizing
We're clinging to an empty bag
Lacking content, significance
Conversational ambivalence
Say the same thing every night, it just ain't right
We'll see who's left holding the bag

. . .


We wrote this song, it's not too short, it’s not too long
It's got back-up vocals in just the right places
It's got a few oohs and ahhs
(ohhhh... ahhhh)
And it takes a little pause
Just before the I sing the errand;

Please play this song on the radio
(Please play this song)

Almost every line is sung on time,
And almost every verse ends in a rim.
The only problem we had was writing enough words.
(ohhhh... ahhhh)
But that's okay, because the chorus is
Coming up again now

Please play this song on the radio,
Please play this song on the radio.

Please play this song on the radio,
Please play this song on the radio,
Please play this song on the radio,
Please play this song on the radio,
Please play this song on the radio,
Please play this song on the radio.

Right about this time, some shit-head will be drawin' a fat fuckin line,
over the title on the back sleave, what an asshole!
so Mr. DJ,I hope you already made your segway
or the F.C.C.'s gonna take a shit,
right on your head,

Can’t play this song on the radio,
Can’t play this song on the radio.

. . .


One more time for Ho Jo, you know I can't wait
Another wasted line
I'm sittin' in the corner, I can feel the weight
Of my head on top of my spine
There's nothing to be scared of once you've
Seen the the light, reflecting through the screen
A eudaemonistic life composed of tar and nicotine
You know it, You know it, You know it
'Cause you've seen it, now you believe it
You know it because it seems so real
You know it because you've seen it, now you believe it
You know it because it seems so real
It seems so real, It seems so real, It seems so real
Sit back and relax and do nothin',na,na,na,na
You'll laugh, then you'll cry, then you'll feel nothin',na,na,na,na
Implanted images of morality
Images of life, they seem so real
One more time for Ho Jo, what does it mean?
I'm not sure I know, while looking for somebody
Deep inside a dream, my sunshine turns to snow
Now it's blowin' inside, I don't feel the cold
Yet I'm frozen to my seat
My eyes have seen the truth
And still my mind admits defeat

. . .


Open your cells let me inside.
Open your arms I have no where to go so let me into you.
I need to be where nothing can hurt me.
Open your legs to let me crawl inside of you I to be inside your womb
so take me home inside of you envelope me im home
bringin' me down
bringin' me down
i wanna be your baby
bringin me down'
open your lips and take me in i need to be inside within
let me become a part of you
let me inside of you swallow me whole
i want to know the things you hide
i want to feel the things you feel
i want to breath the air you breath
i want to live inside of you,take me
bringin' me down
i wanna be your baby
let me live inside

. . .


Through word of mouth let it be known
The man who spends his life on a mission, he's legendary
Travelling from coast to coast
He's the contemporary Johnny Appleseed

He's makin' sure his garden grows
He'll plant a seed in every town he goes
Fertilizing the country side
You couldn't stop him with insecticide

Makin' sure that the garden grows
Yeah yeah yeah
Groomin' the backyard or whackin' a weed

When diggin' holes he'll be wearing a glove
He go into the shed, get out a shovel and he shove
He'll plant the seed, makin' sure it's sown
He go into the shed and start hoein' with the hoe
Ho ho ho

Makin' sure that the garden grows
Yeah yeah yeah
He'll water the yard with the garden hose
Groomin' the backyard or whackin' a weed
Yeah yeah yeah
The contemporary Johnny Appleseed

. . .


A blackened wick is what remains
The flame was blown out just recently
Although the candle hadn't burned down to the stick
It won't be lit again
The day won't be quite as bright

We don't know what she may have been
All we know is what she left behind
An apartment cluttered with children's toys,
Photos of good times
In the bedroom, there's sheets on the windows
There's a four poster bed for a reason
On the floor there's a box full of secrets
It won't be opened

Here older boys and girls would play
All inhibitions were left behind
And as the door would close her
Face began to shine
This was her finest hour, this was her finest time
She's gone, and it's not gonna be alright, not for me
She's gone, and it's not gonna be alright, not for me she's

Gone, but not forgotten, she's still here
In all those years she touched so many lives
Who's gonna watch the little girl she left behind?

Carol Anne stands alone in the schoolyard
All the other children have gone
After waiting for hours she can't understand
Why her mother left her sad

In the darkness she sees definition
In the silence she hears someone calling
After nightmares she lies in bed screaming
But there's no reaction
There's no one listening
There's no one now she's gone
And it's not gonna be alright, not for me, she's gone
And it's not gonna be alright, not for me, she's gone
And it's not gonna be alright, not for me, she's gone
And it's not gonna be alright, not for me, she's gone
And it's not gonna be alright, not for me, she's gone
And it's not gonna be alright, not for me, she's gone

. . .


Did you ever go to sleep with Bo Derek
And wake up with Bo Diddey?
Did you ever go to sleep with Bo Derek
And wake up with Bo Diddley?
You got so loaded, you thought that she's
The most beautiful girl, you ever did see
Did you ever go to sleep with Bo Derek
And wake up with Bo Diddley

Woke up in the morning, to your surprise
A couple of melons in tubesocks, and buggley eyes
Did you ever go to sleep with Bo Derek
And wake up with Bo Diddley?

. . .


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