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Beck
Beck


Background information
Birth name Bek David Campbell
Born July 8, 1970
Born place Los Angeles, California, United States
Genre(s) Alternative Rock
Anti-folk
Years active 1988—present
Label(s) Geffen Records
Interscope Records
XL Recordings
DGC Records
Associated acts The Flaming Lips
Devendra Banhart
Charlotte Gainsbourg
The White Stripes
JSBX
Website Website



Music World  →  Lyrics  →  B  →  Beck  →  Albums  →  Midnite Vultures

Beck Album


Midnite Vultures (11/23/1999)
11/23/1999
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Can't you hear those cavalry drums
Hijacking your equilibrium
Midnight hags in the mausoleum
Where the pixilated doctors moan
Carnivores in the Cowloon night
Breathing freon by the candlelight
Coquettes bitch slap you so polite
Till you thank them
For the tea and sympathy
I want to defy
The logic of all sex laws
Let the handcuffs slip off your wrists
I'll let you be my chaperone
At the halfway home
I'm a full-grown man
But I'm not afraid to cry
Neptune's lips taste like fermented wine
Perfumed blokes on the Ginza line
Running buck wild like a concubine
Who's mother never held her hand
Brief encounters in Mercedes Benz
Wearing hepatitis contact lens
Bed and breakfast getaway weekends
With Sports Illustrated moms
I want to defy
The logic of all sex laws
Let the handcuffs slip off your wrists
I'll let you be my chaperone
At the halfway home
I'm a full-grown man

. . .



I'll be your chauffeur on a midnight drive
It takes a miracle just to survive
Buried animals call your name
You keep on sleeping
Through the poignant rain
I think we're going crazy
Her left eye is lazy
She looks so Israeli
Nicotine and gravy
I'll feed you fruit that don't exist
I'll leave graffiti
Where you've never been kissed
I'll do your laundry
Massage your soul
I'll turn you over
To the highway patrol
I think we're going crazy
Things don't even faze me
Her left eye is lazy
Nicotine and gravy
Miracles amaze me
She looks so Israeli
Love the way she plays me
I think I'm going crazy
I don't want to die tonight

. . .



I'm mixing business with leather
Christmas with Heather
Freaks flock together
And make all the b-boys scream
All right
Turn it up now
All right
Turn it up now
Word up to the man thing
She's always cold lamping
Visine at the canteen
I just wanna watch you dance
Do you wanna ride on the Baltic Sea
I'll be your mistress C.O.D.
I'll comb your hair
Re-write your diary
Pour champagne on a honeybee
She can really do me
She can look right through me
And make all the b-boys scream
I'm mixing fitness with leather
Homework with Heather
Freaks flock together
And make all the lesbians scream
All right
Turn it up now
All right

. . .



We like the boys
With the bullet proof vests
We like the girls
With the cellophane chests
We like to ride on executive planes
We like to sit around and get real paid
I know you really want it
Cuz your Daddy's always on it
And he knows just how to flaunt it
He got pictures in his wallet
And he wanna be your lover
Does he look just like my mother
Does he cover you like butter
And just leave you in the gutter
I want to know if I'm worth your time
There's so much to do before you die
Thursday night, I think I'm pregnant again

. . .



Hot milk
Mmmm...tweak my nipple
Champagne and ripple
Shamans go cripple
My sales go triple
We drop lobotomy beats
Evaporated meats
On hi-tech street
We go solo
Dance floors and talk shows
Hot dogs, No Doz
Hot Sex in back rows
I wanna know what makes you scream
Be your twenty million dollar fantasy
Treat you real good
Expensive jeans
Hollywood freaks on the Hollywood scene
Touch it real good if you want a piece
Party people know I'm that type of freak
People look so snooty
Take pills make them moody
Automatic booty
Zero to tutee fruity
Sex in the halls
Niagara Falls
Local shopping malls receive
Anonymous calls
Hot like a cheetah
Neon mamacita
Eat at tacoria
Pop locking' beats from Korea
Looking like jail bait
Selling lots of real estate
Looking like a hot date
Banging like an 808
Do you want to feel this?
Do you want to feel this?
Norman Schwartzkoff
Something tells me you want to go home
Champagne, bibles
Custom clothes you own
Calling up from special area codes
Hollywood nuns with the Hollywood phones
I got nothing to do, nowhere to go
I'll tell you what you want
If you want to know
Satin sheets
Tropical oils
Turn up the heat
Till the swimming pool boils
Let all the neighbors
Read it in the papers
Making all those gentlemen cry
Realistic tears
Jocking my Mercedes
Probably have my baby
Shop at Old Navy

. . .



Don't tell your right hand baby
What your left hand do
You know those road check girls
Will make your brown breath blue
Peaches and Cream
You make a garbage man scream
Such a dangerous dream
Peaches and Cream.
You look good in that sweater
And that aluminum crutch
I'm gonna let you down easy
I've got a delicate touch
Peaches and Cream
You make a garbage man scream
Come on girl it's a dream
You're a torn out page
From a best selling book
Your home girl's on the line
But your daddy's off the hook
Where do we go now?
Give those pious soldiers
Another lollipop
Cause we're on the good ship
Menage et tois
Peaches and Cream
You make a garbage man scream
Such a delicate thing

. . .



The snipers are passed out
In the bushes again
I'm glad I got my suit dry-cleaned
Before the riots started
Cuz there's only rehashed faces
On the bread line tonight
Soon you'll be a figment
Of some infamous life
Billionaires smile like weapons
Passing out platinum pensions
They're out of control
No one knows how low they'll go
(Hold on)
Take a ride on a broken train
Those bra burning deportees
At the service station
They know that beige
Is the color of resignation
We're out of control
No one knows how low we'll go
(Hold on)
Take a ride on a broken train
Shining like crystal tiaras
Ghettos and gray Riviera
This is the real me ladies
You won't find no shelter here
Tell me, what's your zip code baby

. . .



Don't take your red ribbons off
You're about to make a fool of yourself
In the aluminum sunset
Drinking from a drain
I'm a hundred miles behind myself
Milk and honey
Pouring down like money
Make a poor boy wanna run
Milk and Honey
Do you wanna love me
Under the aluminum sun
Did you hear those war torn stories
Where the lifeguards slept in the streets
In the jungle lands
With the cold cola cans
You'll get the keys to the city for free
Milk and honey
Pouring down like money
Bring a poor boy to his knees
Milk and honey
No it isn't funny
Living in a garden of sleaze
Bangkok athletes in the biosphere
Arkansas wet dreams
We all disappear
Kremlin mistress
Rings the Buddha chimes
She slips me ruffies
Receding hairlines
She's all right...touching my body
She's all right...on my computer
She's all right...selling me watches

. . .



Searchlights on the skyline
Just looking for a friend
Who's gonna love my baby
When she's gone around the bend
Egyptian bells are ringing
When it's her birthday
Sweet nothing', I'm talking about you
There's a hurricane blowing your way
Ooh such a beautiful way
To break your heart
Ooh such a beautiful way
To break your heart
There's someone calling your name
It's driving you insane
You were wearing that stained raincoat
And your umbrella was a tangled mess
You were washed up on the glittering shoals
Looking for another crime to confess
You bribed yourself
Out of a place in the sun
But you had some change to spare
So you said you wanna spend it on me
And shook the blues out of your hair
Ooh such a beautiful way
To break your heart
Ooh such a beautiful way
To break your heart
There's someone calling your name

. . .



The countryside is overgrown
There's a lighthouse in her soul
Wrestling with butcher girls
She don't ever change her clothes
Masterpieces liquidate in fertile tears
I could sleep inside her bones
A hundred years
Lizards in the pressure zone
Mother knows it's only a phase
Cherry gardens feel like ice
Hazard lights from her past
Underneath the broken bridge
Hookers hug illegal dads
Masterpieces liquidate in fertile tears
I could sleep inside her bones
A hundred years
Lizards in the pressure zone

. . .



(Oh yeah, come on)
I met you at JC Penny
I think your nametag said Jenny
I could step to you
With a fresh pack of gum
If somehow I knew you were looking for some
(oh no!)
Like a fruit that's ripe for the picking'
I wouldn't do you like that
Sanka chicken
'Cause only you got a thing
That I just got to get with
I just got to get
Get with you
And you know what we're gonna do
I wanna get with you (Oh girl)
And your sister
I think her name is Debra
I wanna get with you (Only you girl)
And your sister
I think her name is Debra
Girl, I only wanna be down with you
'Cause you got something
That I just got to get with
I'll pick you up late at night after work
I said lady, Step inside my Hyundai
I'm gonna take up to Glendale
Yeah
I'm gonna take you for a feel good meal
'Cause when our eyes did meet
Girl, you know I was packing' heat
Ain't no use in wasting no time?
Getting to know each other
You know the deal
'Cause only you got a thing
That I just got to get with
Got to get with
I just got to get with you girl
I wanna get with you (Only you Girl)
And your sister
I think her name is Debra
I wanna get with you (Girl yeah)
And your sister
I think her name is Debra (Ohhhh)
(Come on)
Oh lovely lady
Girl you drive me crazy
Crazy! (Oh girl)
And you sister
Debra
Yeah, you're driving me crazy
Crazy (Oh)
Yeah
I got a little bit of sympathy for you girl

. . .



Bazookas and fisticuffs
Medicating in Porsches
98-karat stick shift
Chinatown late-night meals
Alfonzo giving me a backrub
2 p.m. laser vizzaginal rejuvenation
Triple album project
Detonating' tracks like these
Magnums and Barrettas
Part-time hostages in pottery classes
Blind date at the wax museum
Norwegian hockey players
Passed out in government limos
Prime ministers with cryogenic faces
Louis Vuitton suitcases
Autographs and paid vacations
Divorce papers and synthetic lubrications
Playing' you like top-40 stations
Ah... you know the deal
Arabian nights
White satellites
Voodoo is tight/tied?
Airbrushed memories strewn like
Pamphlets into fifth Mississippis
Time-lapse footage of duct-taped lies
Animal frequencies pinching deodorized nerves
Cosmetic procedures
On the cartilage of apocalypse
Mannequin tycoons with airport-piano-bar mystiques
Remodeling conjugal amaracus
Flexing like suburban Spartacus
Getting smacked up by unemployed hand models
Running out into the middle of traffic with beaujolais bottles
Arabian nights
White satellites

. . .


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