Bus To Beelzebub

Get on to the bus
That's gonna take you back to Beelzebub
Get on to the bus
That's gonna make you stop going rub a dub...

A steaming hot August night, and Soul Coughing was on the stage, ripping it up...

Your words burn the air
Like the names of candy bars
Your mouth is cold and red
All in rings around your
Laugh laughing laughs

M. Doughty's hipster versification floated over the sweaty crowd along with the occasional body surfer...

It's a grind grind
It's a grind
It's a grind grind

Strange samples, demented calliopes, and a staggered back-beat made for auditory hallucinations...

I'll scratch you raw
L'etat c'est moi
I drink the drink
And I'm wall to wall
I absorb trust like a love rhombus
I feel I must elucidate
I ate the chump with guile
Quadrilateral I was
Now I warp like a smile

Somehow the nonsense lyrics start to make sense...

Yellow no. 5
Yellow no. 5, 5, 5

Oh Man!

Voulez-vous the bus?

Oui.



"Bus to Beelzebub" Lyrics by Mike Doughty