Your favourite nonsense lyrics

Stunning

The chimney on her lyric is not really nonsense. I read an interview ages ago where she explained it. She was wishing the house would fall down on her husband / boyfriend and the woman he was cheating on her with, leaving said woman with a chimney on her head.

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This is another favourite

Yeah I remember this too, I think about that interview every time I hear the song

It’s still nonsense tho

The kiosk in my temporal lobe is shaped like Rosalyn Carter

The opposition
can’t feel the tenticle reach
suction cup the numb arms of the elderly
Please lift the weight out of this
it takes the weight out of living
Let’s let these walkers trip on
endless proof

In the time of chimpanzees I was a monkey
Butane in my veins so I’m out to cut the junkie
With the plastic eyeballs, spray paint the vegetables
Dog food stalls with the beefcake pantyhose
Kill the headlights and put it in neutral
Stock car flamin’ with a loser and the cruise control
Baby’s in Reno with the vitamin D
Got a couple of couches sleep on the love seat

Someone keeps sayin’ I’m insane to complain
About a shotgun wedding and a stain on my shirt
Don’t believe everything that you read
You get a parking violation and a maggot on your sleeve
So shave your face with some mace in the dark
Savin’ all your food stamps and burnin’ down the trailer park

Yo, cut it
Soy un perdedor
I’m a loser baby so why don’t you kill me? (double barrel buckshot)

Soy un perdedor
I’m a loser baby, so why don’t you kill me?

The forces of evil in a bozo nightmare
Ban all the music with a phony gas chamber
‘Cause one’s got a weasel and the other’s got a flag
One’s got on the pole shove the other in a bag
With the rerun shows and the cocaine nose job
The daytime crap with the folksinger slop
He hung himself with a guitar string
A slab of turkey neck and it’s hangin’ from a pigeon wing

You can’t get it right if you can’t relate
Trade the cash for the beef for the body for the hate
And my time is a piece of wax fallin’ on a termite
That’s chokin’ on the splinters

Soy un perdedor
I’m a loser baby so why don’t you kill me?
(Get crazy with the Cheeze Whiz)

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Any Beck lyrics would do

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One of us is a cigar stand
And one of us is
A lovely blue incandescent guillotine
The edge of creation is blurred and blushed
Not a lot of room to grow
Inside this leather terrarium

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The chimney on her isn’t nonsense as such - it’s a reference to the other woman being a witch and deserving a house drop on her head, like in The Wizard of Oz. Thanks.

Jesus christ
lord of flies
in disguise
fuck !

Plenty of Beefheart to choose from, this is a fine example of his off-the-cuff word association:

Ink mathematics, grey mass ecstatics
Noggin elastics, cerebral tatics
Cranium classics, brainium domics
Denizen omics, grey massmatistics

Quantum puree, it’s plain to feel, hard to see
Fission antics, abombastics
Death antiques, wrong deductions
Poor instructions, mass destructions
Peace antiques

Singing ink mathematics, hop along with me
Ink mathematics, moon to a flea
Ink mathematics, I breathe black and white
Day and night, grey gymnastics
Ink math-a-ratics, mathfantastics
Ink mathematics, moon to a flea
Ink mathematistics, hop along with me

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That’s great, it starts with an earthquake
Birds and snakes, and aeroplanes
And Lenny Bruce is not afraid
Eye of a hurricane, listen to yourself churn
World serves its own needs
Don’t mis-serve your own needs
Speed it up a notch, speed, grunt, no, strength
The ladder starts to clatter
With a fear of height, down, height
Wire in a fire, represent the seven games
And a government for hire and a combat site
Left her, wasn’t coming in a hurry
With the Furies breathing down your neck
Team by team, reporters baffled, trumped, tethered, cropped
Look at that low plane, fine, then
Uh oh, overflow, population, common group
But it’ll do, save yourself, serve yourself
World serves its own needs, listen to your heart bleed
Tell me with the Rapture and the reverent in the right, right
You vitriolic, patriotic, slam fight, bright light
Feeling pretty psyched

It’s the end of the world as we know it
It’s the end of the world as we know it
It’s the end of the world as we know it and I feel fine

Six o’clock, T.V. hour, don’t get caught in foreign tower
Slash and burn, return, listen to yourself churn
Lock him in uniform, book burning, bloodletting
Every motive escalate, automotive incinerate
Light a candle, light a motive, step down, step down
Watch your heel crush, crush, uh oh
This means no fear, cavalier, renegade and steering clear
A tournament, a tournament, a tournament of lies
Offer me solutions, offer me alternatives and I decline

It’s the end of the world as we know it (I had some time alone)
It’s the end of the world as we know it (I had some time alone)
It’s the end of the world as we know it and I feel fine (time I had some time alone)
I feel fine (I feel fine)

It’s the end of the world as we know it (time I had some time alone)
It’s the end of the world as we know it (time I had some time alone)
It’s the end of the world as we know it and I feel fine (time I had some time alone)

The other night I drifted nice continental drift divide
Mountains sit in a line, Leonard Bernstein
Leonid Brezhnev, Lenny Bruce and Lester Bangs
Birthday party, cheesecake, jellybean, boom
You symbiotic, patriotic, slam but neck, right?! right

It’s the end of the world as we know it (time I had some time alone)
It’s the end of the world as we know it (time I had some time alone)
It’s the end of the world as we know it and I feel fine (time I had some time alone)

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The headshrinkers, they want my everything, my uncle Bill, my Belisha beacon.

Yesterday I woke up sucking a lemon.

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Love is not love
When it’s a coat hanger

Can I buy inflatable dictators anywhere round here?
Iron age Mums are haunting my kagoule

This here song, is about John W Smoke Junior
It’s about bein’ in love and lovin’ the love that’s hatin’ the love
The love and the love and the hate that’s lovin with all
It’s around the love that’s hate that’s the hate that’s the love
And the love is the love that is the hate that’s hatin’ the love
It’s lovin’ the hate
It’s about John W Smoke’s mom, it’s with his mom
It’s about his mom it’s about his mom it’s about lovin his mom
And bein’ without his mom and lovin’ the hate that’s hatin’ the love
And his mom and all the time they’re there
Hatin’ the hate that’s lovin’ the hate it’s love it’s the love that’s hate
And it goes somethin’ about like this
John E Smoke, oh John E Smoke
John Smoke, oh John E Smoke
Woah John E Smoke, John E John E John E John
John, John Smoke
John E Smoke
Here we go
John, John was a little crippled midget lesbian boy
But stood ten foot tall with a knife
Pretty soon the mole had appeared on John’s left leg
And real black it extended out 469 different miles
And verily verily it was 69 different nuns
Speaking simotainesouly to John in 69 different languages
And then it evolved itself and it was the legless dog that became
A cyclone in John’s father’s fore head
And there is was like a twinkie with a halo storm in it
And it revolved down into the sky and talked to John
Like he was a little puppy himself
And John said that I am not the magma, I am not the crust
And I shall evolve when the rain had come down here and washed on John
And he said that I will be a cigarette butt before it’s all done with
And they said no, you are the flame itself and you shall burn pure
In the South American sky where the blood dogs worship the stairway
John E Smoke, oh John E Smoke
Oh John Smoke, ooo OW!
John E Smoke, oh John E Smoke
Oh oh John E Smoke
Oh John E John E John E John E John E John E John E John E John E
John E John E Jooooooooooooooooo
And so brainlessly leglessly hairlessly the foil tip top of itself
And revealed to John that the kiawe twe luxury liner extended out of John’s left side
And so it had preach you in Mars with a saram backwards
And upwardly they did evolve
Downward they fell like a thin sheet of waste product that would come over John’s body
His body was no longer the primeval express itself
And he could be the dog and the dog’s eyes which had blood comin’ out like they were
Roped around John’s leg and pulled him up, like he was a canoe and and he flew
On the live peasants himself, the South American where he was in love

You could pick any Butthole Surfers song really but this one off Hairway To Steven will do!

Penelope Cruz is a big fan of that lyric too