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Rated: 8.7 out of 10 with 122,444,987 votes.
SIDE THREE (Track 01) - written by Frank Zappa "Freak Out!" is the mainstream debut of studio musician Frank Zappa and his band The Mothers of Invention. It is considered as one of the first concept albums in rock music, as well as being the second double-album (Bob Dylan's "Blonde on Blonde" being the first). The album is notable for its satirical and experimental content that would be the bedrock of many Mothers albums (and future Zappa solo releases) to come. Originally issued on Verve Records in June 1966. LYRICS: Well I'm about to get upset From watchin' my TV. Been checkin' out the news Until my eyeballs fail to see. I mean, they say that every day Is just another rotten mess; And when it's gonna change, my friends, Is anybody's guess. So I'm watchin' and I'm waitin', Hopin' for the best. Even think I'll go to prayin' Every time I hear 'em sayin' That there's no way to delay That trouble comin' every day. No way to delay That trouble comin' every day. Wednesday I watched the riot. I seen the cops out on the street. Watched 'em throwin' rocks and stuff And chokin' in the heat. Listened to reports About the whisky passin' 'round. Seen the smoke and fire And the market burnin' down. Watched while everybody On his street would take a tur To stomp and smash and bash and crash And slash and bust and burn. And I'm watchin' and I'm waitin', Hopin' for the best. Even think I'll go to prayin' Every time I hear 'em sayin' That there's no way to delay That trouble comin' every day. No way to delay That trouble comin' every day. Well, you can cool it, You can heat it. 'Cause, baby, I don't need it. Take your TV tube and eat it An' all that phony stuff on sports An' all those unconfirmed reports. You know I watched that rotten box Until my head began to hurt From checkin' out the way The newsmen say they get the dirt Before the guys on channel so-and-so, And further they assert That any show they'll interrupt To bring you news if it comes up. They say that if the place blows up, They'll be the first to tell; Because the boys they got downtow Are workin' hard and doin' swell. And if anybody gets the news Before it hits the street, They say that no one blabs it faster Their coverage can't be beat. And if another woman driver Gets machine-gunned from her seat, They'll send some joker with a brownie And you'll see it all complete. So I'm watchin' and I'm waitin', Hopin' for the best. Even think I'll go to prayin' Every time I hear 'em sayin' That there's no way to delay That trouble comin' every day. No way to delay That trouble comin' every day. Hey, you know something people? I'm not black, But there's a whole lots a times I wish I could say I'm not white! Well, I seen the fires burnin' And the local people turnin' On the merchants and the shops Who used to sell their brooms and mops And every other household item. Watched the mob just turn and bite 'em And they say it served 'em right Because a few of them are white, And it's the same across the natio Black-and-white discrimination. They're yellin', "You can't understand me!" And all the other crap they hand me In the papers and TV An' all that mass stupidity That seems to grow more every day Each time you hear some nitwit say He wants to go and do you i Because the color of your ski Just don't appeal to him No matter if it's black or white, Because he's out for blood tonight. You know we gotta sit around at home And watch this thing begin. But I bet there won't be many left To see it really end, 'Cause the fire in the street Ain't like the fire in my heart; And in the eyes of all these people, Don't you know that this could start On any street in any town, In any state if any clow Decides that now's the time to fight For some ideal he thinks is right. And if a million more agree, There ain't no great society As it applies to you and me. Our country isn't free, And the law refuses to see If all that you can ever be Is just a lousy janitor. Unless your uncle owns a store, You know that five in every four Won't amount to nothin' more Than watch the rats go across the floor And make up songs about being poor. Blow your harmonica, son!.
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8.7 PG-13 FR
Keywords: The Mothers of Invention - Trouble Every Day , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

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