Frank Zappa lyrics

A bicycle hanging from a ceiling fan A tuba sleeping in a frying pan Coffee stains on thirty pages of charts Somebody counting backwards just for starts The drummer lost bar twenty-three A tax accountant climbed a marimba tree Frank checked the score, erased a page Then added seven bars that nobody played Joe's Garage still hums at night Beside fluorescent bugs and studio lights A fuzz guitar fought a vibraphone Neither one prepared to leave alone A waitress from the Valley sold Three plastic moons and a casserole A penguin filed a parking claim Against a tangerine named Dave Frank Zappa One more wrong note done on purpose Frank Zappa One more joke inside the footnotes A guitar tangled in extension wire A notebook packed with odd desires One crooked grin, one raised eyebrow Making the impossible practical somehow Politicians selling prefab skies Preachers marketing paradise Five brass players missed the cue So he rewrote all forty-two A poodle driving a motorbike A dentist leading a workers' strike A xylophone escaped the amps And vanished underneath the lamps Yellow snow and dental floss Movie monsters getting lost Rubber masks and beauty queens Science-fiction vending machines The Synclavier glows alone Building worlds from code and tone Half the room packed up and ran Half requested copies for the band Frank Zappa One more wrong note done on purpose Frank Zappa One more joke inside the footnotes A guitar tangled in extension wire A notebook packed with odd desires One crooked grin, one raised eyebrow Making the impossible practical somehow The spotlight fades, the crowd goes home A saxophone is left alone Three plastic moons still circle Dave Who never won his parking claim The records spin, the years collapse The chicken finally learns to drive The joke survives, the structure lasts Long after all predictions passed And somewhere past the radio's map A strange chord drifts across the night Still laughing at what sounds right The impossible still sounds like Zappa