words & music: Polar Levine

P/1: lead & background vocals,
       track, djembe, repenique
Scott Allen: BKG vocals
Pete McCann: guitar
produced by Polarity/1
---------------------------------------------
He's just a salesman with a cheap toup on.
Just a salesman with a cheap toup on
He cry and holler and sing a song
And when it's over, grandma's dough is gone
He got a wife, painted and sprayed
Got a wife, painted and sprayed
She holds his bible, she's gettin' paid
She turned her lemon into lemonade
His fingers are hairy but his nails are clean.
Fingers are hairy but his nails are clean
See how they wiggle on the tv screen
Play like a fiddle on a girl of fifteen

Chorus:
  Just a salesman with a cheap toup on
  Salesman with a cheap toup on
  Just a salesman with a cheap toup on
  He cries and hollers and sings a song

Sends you a prayer cloth - if you pay
A free prayer cloth - if you pay
He prays for a hot tub, a Rolls and a lay
He's sellin' heaven the very next day
Wishes his wife and his children were gone.
Picked up his girlfriend at the beauty salon
Took her to Vegas like a high class John.
He's just a salesman with a cheap toup on

Chorus

He killed a homo in a bar last night
Did it for Jesus and he thought it's all right
He's not afraid 'cause he's a man and he's white
But watch him sweat at a flashing strobe light
His wife is lonely - her name is Lenore
She ain't had none since '94
Startin' to wonder if she's lost her allure
Today she heard about his cute little whore
She bought a gun from a junkie named Juan.
Went to the chapel - everybody was gone
The barrel is firm  Her dress is chiffon.
In walks her salesman with his cheap toup on

Chorus

words & music: Polar Levine
‍
P/1: lead & background vocals, track
Scott Allen: BKG vocals & bass
Pete McCann: guitar
produced by Polarity/1
-----------------------------------------------
There's a party goin' on downstairs
Go tell the neighbors
Get rid of the rugs and chairs
Callin' all colors and flavors
We need some African-Americans
European-Americans
Latino-Americans, Asian-Americans
We need some Hottentots and Celts
Visigoths and Welsh
Zulus and Huns, Sweaty badass nuns

Chorus:
  Somebody tell these ladies
  Put some jam inya jammies
  Tell the gentlemen of the jury -
  Put some jam inya jammies
  Throw the landlord out, get crazy
  Put some jam inya jammies
  If you wanna be part of the story

Got Miles in your face
Sun Ra come down from space
Olatunji and his drums of passion
Prince and his kinky fashion
Celia Cruz bring the hot sauce
Bruce! the undisputed boss
JB, the godfather of groove
Batucada gonna make ya move

Chorus

Who's all these black folks
Laughin' at the white folks dance?
People can't help if they're challenged
Just give 'em half a chance
Get all these bankers and lawyers
Stir em in a pot. Add some jalepeño
Let's see what we got
Get your face out of the paper
We're talkin some square biz
Somebody lookin' for a sofa
Gonna tell 'em what time it is

Chorus

Got Muddy Waters and Little Walter
Madonna spillin' wine on the altar
John Cage and a track full of silence
Laurie Anderson and big science
George Clinton gonna get us stinkin'
Joni Mitchell gonna keep us thinkin'
Shirley Caesar gonna preach the gospel
2Pac gonna get hostile

Chorus

words & music: Polar Levine

P/1: lead & BKG vocals, track
Scott Allen: BKG vocals
produced by Polarity/1
-----------------------------------------------
It is known that we have been abused
But now you think the world
Is owing you some kind of dues
Now you lie, but you told me you were fair
There's vengeance in your smile
And your love has just grown weak and bare
Now I no longer feel that we're bound
But when I sleep you call to me, Israel
When I sleep you call to me, Israel
‍
Through the years we were the chosen few
Who were given the message
Look what hatred can do
Now your armies are chewing up the land
Disowning your own brothers
While your valley is turning back to sand
The dove won't fly
Your arrogance has chained it to the ground
But when I sleep you call to me, Israel
When I sleep you call to me, Israel

Chorus:
  You cut through my veins
  You're in my bone
  You're in my blood
  But you'll never be my home
  You cut through my veins
  You're in my bone
  You're in my blood
  And you won't leave me alone

You cut through my veins. You're in my bone
You're in my blood. But you'll never disown me
You can't disown me
You shed your blood
You're shedding the blood
And I know you're not alone

words & music: Polar Levine

P/1: lead & BKG vocals, track
D.A.V.: BKG vocals
produced by Polarity/1
-----------------------------------------------
I thought I heard a knock on my door
Fat lady with a book in her hand
She say the world full of strife and war
Oh Lady, leave me alone
That road is overgrown
The word got out all wrong
‍
You push the book with fear and a gun
Kill six million for the righteous one
Jesus died - who are you to have fun?
Ahh, will you leave us alone
That road is overgrown
The word got out all wrong

Chorus: 
  We are no bag of bones
  We have a heart with need to love
  I got no more illusions
  We all have something from below
  We all have something from above

Black suit sweatin’ in the desert sun
Sayin' who's a Jew and who is not
The ovens’ still warm - still discrimination
Zion leave me alone
That road is overgrown
The lesson got learned all wrong
‍
The flesh and the spirit must coexist
Not to fight some cold war
The only sin is the lie and the fist
Jesus died for love
No guilt no shame from above
The word got out all wrong

Chorus

words & music: Polar Levine

P/1: lead & BKG vocals, track
Scott Allen: BKG vocals & bass
Pete McCann: guitar
produced by Polarity/1
----------------------------------------------------
Ty-d-bowl, microchips, Crazy Glue
My baby's lips
Seranwrap and the Longines Symphonette
All this good stuff in the free world you can get
But it ain't enough  It ain't enough
Can't get enough
Looks like you need a buff. You need a buff
Looks like the man needs to buff his stuff

Chorus:
  Step back! Take a look at yourself
  Look up in the air  Look into your heart
  Look at your shoeshine
  Look at your shoeshine
  Can you see yourself in your shoeshine?

Pay good money
For the suede patches on the elbows of your suit
A smart man Got tenure, God knows
All the liberal and conservative superstitions
Got all the answers and the positions
Cerebral bumps and grinds
Cold analyze the headlines
But the man in the cardboard boudoir wants to know
Can you slurp your degree on the soupline?

Chorus

Flip that channel ZING!  Cold rush to the brain
The funny guy on the news is predicting pain
Doing the dirty deed by the light of the TV set
Everybody wants that sweet thang
Everybody wants to forget
Are we looking young? Are we well hung?
Tell me, are we buffed?
Do you think we've shopped enough?
Are we fast-tracked, laugh-tracked?
faxed, waxed, Compact?
Are we infotained?
Do we need that clown with the map to tell us
To come in out of the rain? I say -

Chorus

words & music: Polar Levine
D.A.V.: rap, BKG vocals
P/1: BKG vocals, track
produced by Polarity/1
-------------------------------------------------
Communication breakdown 
Pause for this message Wake up
Every station is identification
Global syndication is shaping the nation
ABC-Disney, NBC-GE  Murdoch is Foxy
and we're the hen
He owns the pen, the camera, the sword.
Buy a Coke, buy a Ford  Gettin broke?
Getting bored?
Selling attitude like food for the masses
Junk consumption. We're lumpen
A bumpkin to the corporate state
You cannot satiate what you can't negotiate
Your will's been snatched, The bill's attached
Flim-flam diagram, data-jam, handi-cam
Caught it  Yo, you bought it
A mind is a profitable thing to waste
Ya want another taste, baby? We got

Chorus:
  News Goo - What we need to know
  News Goo - What we want to know
  News Goo - What we think we know
  Got remote control to choose the show
  But the more we watch, the less we know
  Ignorance grows  on the spirit like a tumor
  Till freedom is a rumor

What we WANT What we NEED 
What we WANT What we NEED
Do we even know who plants the seed? 
You think the media works for you
But it's a job for them, they're just selling brew
Who owns the media? Who does it speak for?
Your butt on the sofa 
Leave your mind at the door
And that's what entertainment is for
It's the drug of the century,
the soul's penitentiary
Sad what they call a news report:
Who's fucking who and OJ in court
News is not supposed to entertain,
to drug the soul to kill the pain
But it all adds up to someone's capital gain
News goo - no explanation
We're lost in the fields of information plantation
We'll be back after this station identification

Chorus

So where's the news of a people left out?
Put a camera in my face just to hear me shout
But they don't wanna hear what I shout about  Ya love it when we're cuffed.
but not a people rebuffed  
We never play a lead in the sitcom you call the news
Unless we are accused, the positive refused
It's the poor and unschooled
that most need dope 
but it's the inside dope that holds the hope
Can't cope with selling news like toothpaste, spitting out headlines in mad haste
We gotta stop the flow of news goo
keepin' us drunk on a sugary brew
In the Information Age
what we lack is information
Just a crew of haircuts
and info-pretension with a pun and
a smile to hold our attention
Like we're a nation of children 
Goo goo is the intention
We are what we eat  We are what we know 
But information is owned
By those who own the show and control the flow 
More when we return. Gotta go

Chorus

Westinghouse and Minnie Mouse in the house
Makin' heat in the executive suite
The future conceived on the bottom line
When the contracts are sorted - truth is aborted
I'm not a niche group or a fool or a poll  
Their dumbing us down is gonna take it's toll
There's money to be made making me a pawn 
The bill gets paid when democracy's gone
‍
With every corporate merge
You know there's a purge
They splurge on the debt and the news gets the net
The public sector needs a news dissector
To separate the hairspray from the Mayday
The Press is supposed to educate,
cast light on the snake, not force-feed the cake
But the state of the Press is a crime, it's fake
500 hundred channels - no reason to rejoice 
We have too much choice and not enough voice
We now resume our regular programming

Chorus

words & music: Polar Levine

P/1: lead & BKG vocals, track, horn chart
Scott Allen: BKG vocals & bass
Pete McCann: guitar
Joe Cardello: timbales, congas, miniGanza, triangle
D.A.V.: trombones
produced by Polarity/1
-------------------------------------------------
Cincinnati Pink came to New York from the midwest
She wanna be baddass
Studies law studies the bars
Free associates with the best
Her body sits but her brain moves fast
She knows she missing out on something hot
Some folks jammin' but you know she's not
Takes mambo class uptown. The girl's a geek
Her head don't know where her butt wants to go
When lambada hit, she found her feet,
She got around  Her groove is slammin’
At the clubs where Brasileiros rule the town
The girl is jammin'
They're all watchin' Pink throw that pink thing down
Baby let that blonde hair flow
She's catchin' the groove and won't let go

Chorus:
  Don't let go  Don't let go
  Hold on tight and don't let go
  Don't let go  Don't let go
  Shake your pink thing and don't let go

She snuck into SOB's in her lambada dress
A caiparinha or two will ease the stress
The literary life will have to wait
She looks less like a lawyer than jail bait
Merenges and soca tunes get her wound
Her groove is slammin'
Who woulda thought a Wellesley girl
Could hang downtown
The girl is jammin'
They're all watchin Pink
throw that pink thing down
Baby let that blonde hair flow
She's catchin' the groove and won't let go

Chorus

words & music: Polar Levine

P/1: lead & BKG vocals, track
Scott Allen: BKG vocals & bass
Pete McCann: guitar
produced by Polarity/1
-----------------------------------------------------
You used to love the city lights
Dance in the clubs at night
Screwin' on the kitchen floor
Then go again midnight to four
Now there's trouble with old caboose
The turkey's comin' home to roost
They're pissin' in your foyer
The music is too loud
You want some peace and quiet
You're just one of the crowd
This city ain't for humans 
You better hang tough
Better sell the condo  Shake that boomer butt

Eisenhower kickin' ass  Camelot and cheap gas
America on the moon  Little Richard, Pat Boone
V8 Ford and Cadillac, Super Bowl and a 6-pack
Now ya can't swim at the beaches
Stay out of the sun
You soon will be outnumbered
World War III has come
No time for despair  Ya gotta hang tough
Get back in the street
And shake that Boomer butt

Alternative medicine
Barbie wants the same as Ken
Human rights and health care
Livin' under purple air
Cigarettes and acid rain.  CIA pushin' 'cain
Congress gets the news thirty years late
Little smiley faces grinning with hate
The party is over  You better get tough
Have a nice day  Better shake that Boomer butt
Friends are gettin' mugged 
Dealers on the block
Hear the tic-tic-tic of biological clock
Winter's comin' on  You better hang tough
Get back on the dance floor
Shake that Boomer butt
SHAKE IT! By any means necessary

words & music: Polar Levine

P/1: lead & BKG vocals, track
Scott Allen & Sabina Sciubba: BKG tvocals
produced by Polarity/1
------------------------------------------------------
Di! The photographer screamed and she died  Everybody cried
We're dizzy - sleeping off a lifetime snooze
Wasted on celebrity news  Intelligence abused
By the fools who kill or this stuff
Our hunger for fluff; awareness is snuffed
Do we ever get enough?
Flash cubes Trash news
The lame lead the lame and the good die young
The paparazzi made the chase
But who really deserves to be hung?
Those who profit from this disease
Please have no doubt: they put this contract out
A real person forced to take flight
In the tunnel of a Paris night
Like a monkey on a chain 
to entertain us with her pain
Yeah, the good die young and the bad get paid
You know it's depraved
She's worth more in pain than healthy and sane
We're all being sucked.
And who pulls the chain?
The sickness we use to entertain our blues
She couldn't survive
But the Church of Murdoch still gonna thrive 
A real person forced to take flight
in the tunnel of a Paris night
Like a monkey on a chain 
to entertain us with her pain

Chorus:
  Will this thing we call God come down
  And help us start this song again
  To learn to live inside our skin
  And sing it right next time around

We elevate our best then shoot them down 
Self-hatred we were taught
The dogma we bought
We gotta make the stars fall -
a drug to help us feel less small 
This damn web we made and those fools get paid
To dig up the dirt and beat the drum 
in our sad parade  of the lonely, the lost 
like ghosts we're tossed by
the latest consumer breeze 
We're squeezed - played in this material world
The next Jesus will have to be a pretty girl  
who we'll worship and diss, stalk and chase
in our pornographic need to fill a space 
as we fade into blue with a surgical grin
and we're told again and again and again 
how we're so full of sin
Thrown out of the garden, our emptiness grew 
"she took you in and she belonged to you"
A real person forced to take flight  in the tunnel of a Paris night  like a monkey on a chain
To entertain us with her pain

Chorus