Zang Productions

University of the King - Look Out For Germs

Look Out For Germs
 
1.
Rabbits Ruudabegger (Lick The Platter Clean)

Rabbits Ruudabegger (Lick The Platter Clean)



© 2002 University of the King
Look Out For Germs Lyrics
2.
Look Out For Germs

Look Out For Germs

Look out for germs!
Look out for germs!

Introducing the thesis
of these pieces of audio faeces:
A Lament for the human species.
Afflicted by this most
contageous and evil of diseases.
My decaying carcass wheezes.
Dying a day at a time
till evetually I'm a body in a box.
Because the King says:
"The wages of sin is death."
(Romans8:13)

I thought i'd learn kung-fu
to battle all the sadness
and the badness in this place
but it's only good on big stuff
'cos unless im out in space
there's a million micro-organisms
chewing at my face

Maybe if I cover myself
from head to foot
in a high-density
titanium anti-hazard suit
I can hold onto my loot
and live forever.
---
Too late!
I can feel the virus
begin to sever
my body from my life-force.
Slipping forever
and ever
slowly
deeper
into the layer of the disease.
How much longer can I
hold it together?

My King-Kong Palm
is no match for these germs
they sink into the cracks
and th ewrinkles in my skin
penetrating flesh
like an acupuncture pin
I need a little something
to protect me from this thing
i need a suit!

Look out for germs!
Look out for germs!
Look out for germs!

© 2002 University of the King
Pull Back Swing Lyrics
3.
Pull Back Swing

Pull Back Swing

Pull back swing
don't take your eye off of me
unleash the energy and send me
over the land and all the sea
I'm travelling right now
at a great velocity
how much longer can I evade
the force of gravity?
I'll land in a while
I'm coming down now
and there I lay alone
on the mound
on the ground
I hope on not lost
---shhh, I can hear the sound
of feet drawing near-----
The sun glistens on the silver shaft
as its placed behind my body
the air shudders around me
as I'm smashed towards the green
it's where I'm meant to be
as soon as possible
and once again I see
the earth beneath me as I free fall
and it looks so nice
this was all made for me
everything from that bunker
to the old oak tree
so I put my trust in your swing
together we will win
pull back swing

Pull back swing
and hit that little thing!
Yeah!
Hit me!
Hit me!
Hit me!
I been sat here under this tree
precariously balanced
on this weenie little tee
for hole number 3
waiting extremely patiently
for You to time Your swing
and hit me real hard like Bruce Lee.
(Yoikes!!)
Golly gee.
I was getting all twitchy
but You truly timed everything
immaculately.
From way up here
I can see the whole town.
I can see the sea.
I can see people like insects
crawling through the city.
The sweet air
whistling around the
circular depressions
in my scuffed up skin.
On the horizon I see my home:
a hole with a pin
approaching like a very fast thing.
Your technique is perfect
and it always has been.
Pull back swing

© 2002 University of the King
Did They Beat The Disease (Did They Beat The Disease) Lyrics
4.
Did They Beat The Disease (Did They Beat The Disease)

Did They Beat The Disease (Did They Beat The Disease)

I'm sitting on this bench
and it's raining, it's draining
my memories are fading yes they fade
I used to be a salesman by trade
but play the flute every night
until one day I got myself
in an awful awful fight
we were having a duel
but with flutes nothing more
until I out-tooted his toot
and he pushed me to the floor
he said I’d never play again
and I called him and idiot
so right there and then
he cut off all my digits

Back in the '30s
my great uncle Ernie
lay on his death-bed
and gave his flute to me.
I knew
if I practiced hard
I'd go far.
No mistake.
I'd be great.
I'd be a huge jazz star!
Then in '44
on the fields of war
a stray Allied bullet
hit me to the floor.
It bounced off my teeth
and then killed 10 men
and I've been busking the Underground
ever since then.

We're 2 fat tramps
on the Underground tunnel.
Making sweet music
down silver funnels.
Scraping out a living
in our slightly embarrassing
bubble of poverty
on the London city streets.
The capital of the wealthy
discretely avoids
any eye-to-eye contact
with our undignified noise.
They've got stupid beards
and they smell like wee
but they're the happiest two men
on the London city streets.
How can this be?
Did they beat the disease?
Did they beat the disease?
Did they beat the disease?
Did they beat the disease?
Blessed are the poor
and those who mourn.
Blessed are the weak
and those who seek.
Blessed are the tramps
on the city streets.
Blessed are the cured
of the evil disease.

© 2002 University of the King
 
5.
Theme From Germs: Attack

Theme From Germs: Attack



© 2002 University of the King
Oops! Lyrics
6.
Oops!

Oops!

Billy-Bob started his new job
at the great plant nursery
he was earning summer money
for his second year at the great university
he didn't know anyone
and he felt a little bit lonely

But that was ok.
He had a little black book
to keep him company.
He'd sit there every lunchtime -
just him
the black book
and a big Cornish pastie.
All by himself
he was happy as can be.
And everyone was happy.
Or so it seemed...

In fact the troops at the nursery
began to feel real uneasy
with Billy-Bob's reclusive lifestyle
and self-sufficiency
but by far and away
most infuriatingly...

...Was his little black book.
What on earth did he write in there?
If we could just get a look.
As time went by
the workforce grew paranoid
that the strange new boy
was totally deranged -
and was writing out plans
to have their deaths arranged.

"Why are these people
all looking at me funny?
I'm just writing songs
about this and that.
They stare at me
like I'm some kind of
crazy old man."

After about 3 weeks
Billybob's colleagues were really edgy.
They did a bad bad deed -
put some deadly weed killer
in Billybob's cup of
Earl Grey tea.
Milk and no sugar.
Sounds good to me.

© 2002 University of the King
Rite Of Self Esteem Lyrics
7.
Rite Of Self Esteem

Rite Of Self Esteem

I saw you when you were
just a little baby.
Squirming in a pool of you own blood.
"Save me!" you screamed.
Suddenly, it seemed,
the need for intercession
threw me into action.
I reached out my hand to you
in compassion.

I stumbled into this city
to find company.
A place where a boy can rest his head
in relief.
I had chattering teeth -
wound up to unleash themselves
on old-timers at the bar
in tall stories.
I didn't have to look far.
Before me I saw a queue full of hipsters.
I was freezing.
They were pretty much
just wearing knickers.
I joined on the end.
We filed in slowly.
2 big bald guys searched and ID-d me.
It was dark inside.
No one I recognised.
A figure approached
through the coloured flashing lights
and said:
"Kiss me."

I saw you when you were
just a little older.
All looks and brains
and becoming bolder and bolder.
Bursting at the seams
with adolescent dreams
of ditching your retainer
and doing whatever.

I choked on my milk
and I tripped on my laces.
The dizzy little stranger
slipped off into the crowd of faces
grinding on the dance-floor.
The moment was lost
but I didn't feel sore.
Because
right about then
everything got weird.
A sense of foreboding
filled me with paralysing fear.
The crowd began to cheer
and form a human sphere.
Stuck in the middle
was the dizzy little stranger -
grinding like a psycho
to the beats that were passed
to the centre through the air
by placenta from the speakers.
Weak like a foetus.
Trying to appease these
evil pagan gods of hip-ness,
in the hope that they'll
cross this one off their hit-list
of ugliness...
loneliness...
unfashionable to the eyes...
These week-end rituals,
these habitual sacrificial night-lives:
It's all lies.

I saw you when you were
just a little baby.
But I guess that
maybe you don't remember all that.
You're piling up your own little stack.
But I still remember
every word that you said..
everything that you did..
every book that you read..
I'm fattening up a real big cow
for when you come back.

© 2002 University of the King
 
8.
I Have Fifty Different Personalities But Still I'm Lonely I Guess

I Have Fifty Different Personalities But Still I'm Lonely I Guess



© 2002 University of the King
 
9.
Theme From Germs: Killing The Blues Player

Theme From Germs: Killing The Blues Player



© 2002 University of the King
Epitaph Of A Blues Player Lyrics
10.
Epitaph Of A Blues Player

Epitaph Of A Blues Player

Oh thank the LORD
that I'm done with this skin.
This flimsy little membrane
has been worn down to nothing.
All wrinkled and thin
since the curses of sin
have been relentlessly killing me.
Outwards and in.
Oh good grief!
The relief!
The sense of release is beyond belief.
And now I can
finally meet with the chief...

--Gravestone of a blues player--

I lingered on that stinker of a sphere
for 60 odd years.
And everywhere I went
I took a lifetime full of tears.
Steadily I built up
a massive scrapbook of memories:
Fears..
Regrets...
Worries....
Miseries.....
My nemesis was always with me -
like a splinter in my kidneys
infecting everything from within me.
I was sad as the winter
and the summers were bitter.
The glory of the sun
made me feel even emptier.

One day I was sitting in the river
gold sieving
and I saw Robert Johnson
on his porch that evening.
Drinking cheap whiskey
and swearing at crocodiles..
But mostly
he was just strumming and singing.
Sharing his pain
with all the other lonely souls
who felt the same way
about their screwed up worlds.
Believe me there was a load of folks
singing along with him.
The scene was overwhelming
and it got me to thinking
that I'm not the only guy in the world
who feels like he's sinking.
Maybe I could use my blues
to make a living..

I traded in my dog
for an old 6 string
and started fiddling around
with the fiddly little thing.
It was then that I realised
that I wasn't that good.
And I missed my dog.
And I didn't know what to do.

I decided I might go and see
Robert Johnson play.
Perhaps he'd have some wisdom
to send me on my way.
Right there on his porch
I told him how it was.
He said:
"Aaah, it's ok kid.
I'm not that good either.
You don't need to be all that good.
Have you never heard of Weezer?"
"But I'm even worse than that.
Could you just give me some tips?
Show me some chords?
Or some mean blues licks?"
His dark eyes narrowed
to a mean pair of slits
as he leaned in towards me
to whisper in my ear.
his breath was shaking
with a slight fear
as he whispered real quiet
so that nobody could hear:
"I never practiced hard
to get this damn good.
I got supernatural help.
Maybe you should too."

Figured that Mr. Johnson
must've been talking about the church.
So I went to see the preacher
and I told him my dilemma.
He was stella on the organ
but he was rubbish at the guitar.
But he knew more about the blues
than Robert Johnson did by far.
He showed me
the comprehensive history of misery.
Who began the pain?
And who will take the blame
and end this epic game?
My significance in this mystery
was finally revealed to me.
For the very first time
I smiled with glee!
But believe me
I was certainly not done
with all my misery.
I sucked at the guitar
and I never made a penny.
I endured all these blues
awaiting eagerly
my departure from this place
to my Master out in space
and the end of all sadness
by the smile upon His face...

Aaaagh.

Everything's huge
and the air is so thick
with magnificence
it makes me heave till I'm sick.
Curled in a ball
and squeezed from each side
by the searing
blinding
beauty of it all.
I arise from the floor
to receive my prize
and I realise
it's finally good to be alive.
The overwhelming size
goes through my eyes into my head.
I begin to praise the LORD
that I'm finally dead.

© 2002 University of the King
 
11.
Theme From Germs: The Lair

Theme From Germs: The Lair



© 2002 University of the King
The Evil Eviltron Gives An Evil Laugh Lyrics
12.
The Evil Eviltron Gives An Evil Laugh

The Evil Eviltron Gives An Evil Laugh

I run real fast across your TV screen
while pixilated fireballs shoot past
at unrealistic speeds,
and killer-weeds jump and scream -
shooting killer seeds at me.
Looking real mean.
I annihilate the team
of evil machines.
Grab the extra lives
and leave this bad dream.
I awake in a room.
Aching.
Wheezing.
Suddenly my nemesis
smashes through the ceiling
revealing sweet beams of sun -
reflecting off my ray-gun.
"Eviltron, your time has come."

Way back in time
I was barely a twinkle
in my designer's eyes.
A vision of pixels in His mind.
He lovingly put me together.
He said:
"Let's have some light."
And BLAM! I was alive.

I wander around this
pixelated world
at the mercy of
whichever boy or girl's
got a hold of the controls.
Some of them are ok
and some of them are lame.
But none of them are good enough
to complete this game.
It's always the same.
I die every night
in electronically simulated pain.
Losing lives.
Again and again.
Hee hee!
When you've died this many times
it's hard to stay sane.

My only slim chance
is to beat the final boss
- Eviltron -
and finally finish the race at last.
My designer surpassed with this task.
Created a game so hard
that nobody could pass.

[The evil Eviltron gives an evil laugh]

Only my designer
can save my sweet soul
from endless deaths
in this pixelated world.
If only He'd pick up the controls
and end this computer game
Once and for all.

© 2002 University of the King
 
13.
Theme From Germs: Showdown With My Big Brother

Theme From Germs: Showdown With My Big Brother



© 2002 University of the King
My Big Brother Lyrics
14.
My Big Brother

My Big Brother

My Big Brother - He's going to get you.
One way or the other - you'll see.
My Big Brother - He's going to get you.
You crazy little sucker! You'll see.

Sweet sweet summer sun.
Ooooh the summertime
makes me feel all warm inside.
So warm inside ooooh.
I like daffodils!

© 2002 University of the King
Buy Look Out For Germs at
Cat No: ZANGCD0002
Release Date: 1st July 2002
Release Type: Album

The second release from University of the King, and their first full length album.

Somehow they stumbled into rapping/shouting and it just about worked...

These songs are pretty much all about death.
Benjamin Blower
Fiction Fight
Florent
Barrowclough
The Custodians
Waler
Josiah Gillespie
Greybeard
Bethan Marshall
University of the King
Selina Blakeney
The Zang Productions Ensemble
Ickberg
Vincent Gould