Brown shoes don't make it - The Mothers of Invention
Brown shoes don't make it
Brown shoes don't make it
Quit school, why fake it?
Brown shoes don't make it
TV dinner by the pool
Watch your brother grow a beard
Got another year of school
You're okay, he's too weird
Be a plumber he's a bummer
He's a bummer every summer
Be a loyal plastic robot
For a world that doesn't care
Smile at every ugly
Shine on your shoes and cut your hair
Be a jerk and go to work
Be a jerk and go to work
Be a jerk and go to work
Be a jerk and go to work
Do your job and do it right
Life's a ball! TV tonight
Do you love it? Do you hate it?
There it is, the way you made it, wow
A world of secret hungers
Perverting the men who make your laws
Every desire is hidden away
In drawer, in a desk
By a Naughahyde chair
On a rug where they walk and drool
Past the girls in the office
You see in the back of the City Hall mind
The dream of a girl about thirteen
Off with her clothes and into a bed
Where she tickles his fancy all night long
His wife's attending an orchid show
She squealed for a week to get him to go
But back in the bed his, teenage queen
Is rocking and rolling and acting obscene
Baby! Baby!
Baby! Baby!
And he loves it, he loves it, it curls up his toes
She bites his fat neck and it lights up his nose
But he cannot be fooled, old City Hall Fred
She's nasty, she's nasty, she digs it in bed
Do it again and do it some more
That does it, by golly, it's nasty for sure
Nasty-nasty-nasty, nasty-nasty-nasty
Only thirteen and she knows how to nasty
She's a dirty young mind
Corrupted, corroded
Well she's thirteen today
And I hear she gets loaded
If she were my daughter I'd...
(What would you do, Daddy?)
If she were my daughter I'd...
(What would you do, Daddy?)
If she were my daughter I'd...
(What would you do, Daddy?)
Smother my daughter in chocolate syrup
And strap her on again, oh baby
Smother that girl in chocolate syrup
And strap her on again
She's a Teenage Baby and she turns me on
I'd like to make her do a nasty on the White House lawn
Going to smother that daughter in chocolate syrup
And boogie till the cows come home
Time to go home, Madge is on the phone
Gotta meet the Guerneys and a dozen gray attorneys
TV dinner by the pool, I'm so glad I finished school
Life is such a ball I run the world from City Hall
source: Songtext 'Brown Shoes Don't Make It'; Written by Frank Zappa; genius.com/Frank-zappa-brown-shoes-dont-make-it-lyrics; www.youtube.com/watch?v=EZLWD75KKGA; From the album 'Absolutely Free' by The Mothers of Invention; Album from: 1967