Текст песни 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 bear’s taking pictures in the grass
In my radio smashed
And I like pianos in the evening sun
Dragging my heels ’til my day is done
Saturday night in the Catain’s clothes
Tin horns blowing with my jury ’phros
Yo soy un disco quebrado
Yo tengo chicle en 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 for mack
Shocked my finger spicing my hand
I’ve been spreading disease all across the land
Beautiful air-conditioned sitting in the kitchen
Wishing I was living like a hitman
Face down in the guarantees
Jaundiced marshalls getting busy with ease
Because I get down, I get down
I get down all the way
Yo soy un disco quebrado
Yo tengo chicle en cerebro
Sawdust songs of the plaid bartenders
Western unions and the country westerns
Silver foxes looking for romance
In the chain smoke 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 using lost souls
You never get caught with the wax so rotten
All my days I got the grizzly worms
Hijack flavors that are flipping like birds
Yo soy un disco quebrado
Yo tengo chicle en cerebro
girl:\"who are you?\"
man:\"I’m the enchanting wizard of rhythm.\"
girl:\"why did you come here?\"
man:\"I came here to tell you about the rhythms of the universe…\"
Chorus translation:\" I’m a broken record; I’ve got bubblegum in my
brain\"