Insult Song

White line fever I got it off the children of Captain Beefheart They'd been locked in the forest for many years They could not help it They were retards from the Los Angeles district There was Tim There was Tim 2 There was Rob There was Dave the Eagle And the mad Greek woman, The Hydra It was White Line Fever Over and over again Over and over again They had us trapped in the hills Playing their Los Angeles music over and over It sounded like Amon Duul at first But in fact it was a plot by three of them We thought they wore masks Until we asked them to take them off They took the trout replica a bit too far They would copy Darkly My Love They were cool cats They were White Line Fever They were a bunch of twats White Line Fever White Line Fever Often on the beach they would play for ever and ever In the sandy surf of L.A. County One day they put their sandals on And decided to go in to Rochdale They were pretty outta sight Orpheo, the ancient name from Greece Orpheo, Tim Presley... how many names did they have? Nobody knew Was it Latin? Was it Yamaha? Nobody knew So they traveled like the born again Christians Or the Jehovah's Witnesses So they traveled and traveled Till they reached the holy town of Ro'dale And Nob End And Ramsbottom To find their true wagon, Christianity They were so happy! They were so happy, they could not describe it themselves! Festivals Sauna in the hotels Fantastic views of the English countryside They were besides themselves with happiness Their tour guide, Dave Put a stocking over his head, and you couldn't tell the difference Following their leader blindlessly and obeying in all goodness The long trail to the Lancashire hilltops Happy in their fulfillment Little did they know they were paying by the minute For the tape they were wasting