Brian Wilson (Live) - Barenaked Ladies

Summertime, and the livin' is easy. Fish are jumpin', and the Cotton is high. Oh, your Daddy's rich, and your Mama's good-lookin'. So hush little baby, don't you cry. One of these mornings, you're gonna rise up singin'. Then you'll spread your wing's, and you'll take to the sky. But, until that mornin', there's a-nothin' can harm you. With your Daddy and Mama standin' by. So hush little baby, don't you cry. No, no, no don't you cry. No, no don't you cry.

Since you came here uninvited We all knew you'd be delighted This is not the time or place to hedge No one here would be so bold to But since you've asked and no one's told you Let us take you to the cutting edge I can process words, accounting too And my pixel screen displays for you Computer graphics locked into your memory (Memory, memory) With fiber optics cast in plastic For natural sights and sounds fantastic Just reach out and talk to your dear old Uncle Emery More! More! More! Everything you wanted and more More! More! More! Let me tell you what it's for Here's the printout with the score Get yourself together on the edge Ooh-wa, ooh (Bah, bah, bah) You want to go to old Rio De Janeiro, my dear? You want to join in any Club Paradise? You'd really rather stay at home where the picture is clear You get it on the stereo, and you don't even have to go More! More! More! Everything you wanted and more More! More! More! Any time or place you wish You might meet up with some dish Pull yourself together on the edge If you want a lean machine to whip you up some mean cuisine I'm on the scene, totally automatic Hey, I can bake your biscuits too Pop some dough boy out for you I'm micro solid-state and that's no static More! More! More! Everything you wanted and more More! More! More! Where the bytes and chips may fall You just have yourself a ball It's all hyperactive on the edge From LEDs to CRTs Woofers, tweeters, antenna trees An ultra-nylon life of ease Everything you dreamed of on the edge And more!

That's the tape that we made, But I'm sad to say it never made the grade. That was me, third guitar; I wonder where the others are. I sold the guitar today... I never did play much anyway. Vine Street. We used to live there on Vine Street. She made perfume in the back of the room And me and my group, we'd sit out on the stoop And we'd play for her the songs she liked best To have us play, on Vine Street. Vine Street, the crack of the backbeat on Vinestreet. Swingin' along on the wings of a song And I'll lie in, secure, self-righteous, and sure Why we've things to say that the people Would pay to hear us play, on Vine Street.

By Palm Desert To market to buy. Tenderfoot up to date Palms of the real estate. By Palm Desert Springs often run dry. I came west unto Hollywood, Never-never land. Juxtaposed to B.B.D. and O. Beyond San Fernando On hillside manors On the banks of toxicity Those below and those above the same. Dreams are still born In Hollywood I don't understand. Just suppose the youngster knows He's had a good deal of fortune And up through the babble On the fair banks complicity, Buy your leave or stay beyond the game. Palm Desert Not fade away. Palm Desert I wish I could stay. Palm Desert Sages abound. So head your head To the ground round. Meanwhile in the wild west Of Hollywood age is losing hold. Inasmuch as you are touched To have withstood By the very old search For the truth within The bounds of toxicity. Left unsung So I have strung the frame.

I always wanted to do one of these type shits Uh, I had a yellow girl, called her, "Dandelion" She be panty-less, so no panty lines She's from Campbellton, north of county line Steady hands, never let her count the bands, though She fucked me, tryna pluck a couples bucks like a banjo Had a girl that was a artist, she could draw, her name Tracy She always outta line, making Mona Lisa faces And we argue all the time, but we fuck like we crazy She said her favorite thing is face painting I used to have this white shorty, always hanging with the black folk She used to bump Black Thought, I saw her using black soap That's a wack thought, ain't wanna kick her to the curb Until she asked me, can she say the N word? Hey, can I say "nigga" around you? Some nerve I knew a girl from Jersey who use to love Donny Hathaway And she was from Piscataway Her brother pulled a gun on me, she told him "Put the gat away" I was tapping that ass, I'll never forget the Saturday But it don't even matter like D'Angelo and Laur' Hill I had a country girl from Alabama down in Mobile At that time, she had mo' bills than me And she, her, had no time to chill with me I still miss her, I wonder where could she be? Hand me the Fronto leaf Hey, damn bro, I don't think we got no more Alght, let's go to the store Aight nigga, shit, but we driving yo' shit You driving? Young nigga, you don't know nothing 'bout no bitches Listen Now as we smoke and ride and reminisce I'm thinking back to a time when I was Young and dumb with single nigga privileges I had a chick, her name was Loraine, did anything for me On the day she get her hair done, walk in the rain for me Pick Sharika up and stole the car, she wasn't ashamed of me Trapping hard, slept on the floor, and never complained to me My baby went into stores and did her thang for me Even ran from police and got it back on the train for me Lame to me, half of these bitches, laugh at these bitches 'Til the point you go on IG and you can rap for these bitches Not to say I wouldn't tackle these bitches, given the chance If it happened, it was destiny, shit was out of my hands I'm saying... Man... They say karma is constant That means it's just... it's a consistent cycle of... Good and bad Coming and going from every source of... life... Existing on Earth, so... If I fucked a bitch real good back in the day You know what I'm saying? I'm talking like real good and like made her feel, you know Like the woman that it made her into the woman that she is right now Then I'd expect somebody should be Coming to fuck me real good any day now I mean it's karma, right? Shit