Frank Zappa - The Blue Light lyrics

Your ethos your pathos
Your Porthos your Aramis
Your Brut Cologne you're writing home
You are hopeless your hopelessness
Is rising around you, rising around you
You like it it gives you something to do
In the day time hey buddy, you need a hobby
You are tired of moving forward
You think of the future
And secretly you piddle your pants
The puddle of piddle which used to be little
Is rising around you, rising around you
You like it it gives you something to do
In the night time

Oh well, you travel to bars
You also go to Winchell's Doughnuts
And hang out with the Highway Patrol
Sometimes you'll go to a pizza place
You go to Shakey's to get that
American kind of pizza
That has the ugly, waxey, fake yellow
Kind of cheese on the top
Maybe you'll go to Straw Hat Pizza
To get all those artificial ingredients
That never belonged on a pizza
In the first place
(But the white people really like it)
Oh well, you'll go anyplace
You'll do anything
Oh you'll give me your underpants
I hope these aren't yours, buddy
They're very nice, though
You go to Santa Monica Boulevard
You go to the Blue Parrot
No problem, you'll go anyplace
You'll do anything
Just so you can hang out with the others
The others just like you
Afraid of the future
(Death Valley Days straight ahead)
The future is scary (Yes it sure is)
Well, the puddle is rising
It smells like the ocean
A body of water to isolate England
And also Reseda the oil in patches
All over Atlantis, Atlantis
You remember Atlantis
Donovan, the guy with the brocade coat
Used to sing to you about Atlantis
You loved it, you were so involved then
That's back in the days when you used to
Smoke a banana
You would scrape the stuff off the middle
You would bake it you would smoke it
You even thought you was
Getting ripped from it no problem
Woop! Atlantis
They could really get down there
The plankton, the krill
The giant underwater pyramid, the squid decor
Excuse me, Todd
The big ol' giant underwater door
The dome, the bubbles, the blue light
Light, light, light, light
Light, light, light, light
Blue light blue light
The seepage, the sewage, the rubbers
The napkins your ethos, your Porthos
Your flag pole, your port hole your language
You're frightened the future
Your lang you can't even speak your
Own fucking language
You can't read it anymore
You can't write it anymore your language
The future of your language your meat loaf
Don't let your meat loaf heh, heh, heh
Your Micro Nanette heh
Your Brut cologne