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Betse Ellis
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Straight to Hell
If you can play on the fiddle, how's about a British jig and reel? Speaking King's English in quotations, as railhead towns feel the steel mills rust… water froze in the generation… clear as winter ice… this is your paradise… there ain't no need for ya, there ain't no need for ya. Go straight to hell, boys… go straight to hell boys. You wanna join in a chorus of the Amerasian blues? When it's Christmas out in Ho Chi Minh City kiddy say papa-papapapa- papa-papa-san, take me home. See me got photo-photo-photograph of you of you and mama mama mama-san… you and mama mama-san. Let me tell ya 'bout your blood, bamboo kid… it ain't Coca-Cola, it's rice… straight to hell, boy… go straight to hell boy. Oh papa-san, please take me home. Papa-san, everybody they wanna go home… and mamasan says… You wanna play mind-crazed banjo on the druggy-drag ragtime USA? In parkland international - HA - junkiedom USA… where procaine proves the purest rock man groove… and rat poison… the volatile molotov says…. ahhhh… ahhhh… straight to hell! Can you really cough it up loud and strong? The immigrants… wanna sing all night long… It could be anywhere, most likely any frontier, any hemisphere… no man's land… And there ain't no asylum here. King Solomon never lived round here… Go straight to hell, boys… go straight to hell boy… yeah
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