Frank zappa (lead guitar, vocals)   Warren cucurullo (rhythm guitar, vocals)   Denny walley (slide guitar, vocals)   Ike willis (lead vocals)   Peter wolf (keyboards)   Arthur barrow (bass, vocals)   Ed mann (percussion)   Vinnie colaiuta (drums)      Joe: (clutching the hood ornament of an ancient car)   Maybe you thought i   Was the packard goose   Or the ronald   Macdonald of the   Nouveau-abstruse   Well fuck all them   People, I don't   Need no excuse   For being what I am   Do you hear me, then?       All them rock 'n roll   Writers is the worst   Kind of sleaze   Selling punk like   Some new kind of   English disease   Is that the wave   Of the future?    Aw, spare me please!      Oh no, you gotta go   Who do you write for?    I wanna know   I believe you is the   Government's whore   And keeping peoples   Dumb is where you're   Coming from   And keeping peoples   Dumb is where you're   Coming from   Fuck all them writers   With the pen in   Their hand   I will be more   Specific so they   Might understand   They can all   Kiss my ass   But because it's   So grand   They'd best just   Stay away   Hey, hey, hey      Hey, joe, who   Did you blow?    Moe pushed   The button boy   And you went   To the show   Better suck a little   Harder or the shekels   Won't flow   And I don't mean   Your thumb   So on your knees   You bum   Just tell yourself   It's yum   And suck it 'till   You're numb      Journalism's   Kinda scary   And of it   We should be wary   Wonder what became   Of mary?       And no sooner has he wondered, a vision of mary appears to him, delivering a little lecture...      Voice of mary's vision:   Hi! it's me...   The girl from the bus...   Remember?    The last tour?    Well...      Information is   Not knowledge   Knowledge is   Not wisdom   Wisdom is not truth   Truth is not beauty   Beauty is not love   Love is not music   Music is the best...   Wisdom is the domain   Of the wis   (which is extinct).   Beauty is a french   Phonetic corruption   Of a short cloth   Neck ornament   Currently in   Resurgence...      And no sooner has she spoken (which is awkward and probably incorrect but what the fuck), enormous flabby short cloth neck ornaments obscure the horizon in a multitude, beating their ugly wings   Orking their hidden chrome snap attachments as they resurge in the direction of the white zone seeking snack material near the utensil shrines of greater america...      Joe:   If you're in the   Audience and like   What we do   Well, we want you   To know that we   Like you all too   But as for the   Sucker who will   Write the review   If his mind   Is prehensile   (his mind   Is prehensile)   He'll put down   His pencil   (he'll put down   His pencil)   And have   Himself a squat   On the cosmic utensil   (cosmic utensil)   Go give it all you got   On the cosmic utensil   (cosmic utensil)   Sit 'n spin until you rot   On the cosmic utensil   (cosmic utensil)   He really needs   To squat   On the cosmic utensil   (cosmic utensil   Cosmic utensil)      Now that I got that   Over with   I'll just play my   Imaginary guitar again   Hey...   Soundin' pretty good!   Hey...get down, me...   Boy, what an   Imagination!   Love myself better   Than I love myself...   I think...   What tone!   Sounds like an   Elegant gypsy!   What is that?    Musk?    It's hip!