Hanging Out With the Horny Girls 
Hardball 
Hawaii 
The Headless Samurai of Oatmogie, Oklahoma 
Heaven 
Heavy 
Hey Killer 
Holiday House 
Holy Macaroni and the Stutter Jive King 
Home 
Homemade Gun 
Horses & Ponies 
Hot Beer and Cold Women 
 
 

Hanging Out With the Horny Girls
by Bob Schneider

Hanging out with the horny girls
That was kinda cool
There was nothing I could think of
That they wouldn't do

They were quite bisexual
And they were kind of nasty
They were always naked
And they took a lot of xtc

Hanging out with the horny girls
Was better in my head
I tried to order pizza
But they tied me to the bed

It was quite an adventure
And I think I  got the clap
They put their fingers in my butthole
I couldn't take a nap

Hanging out with the horny girls
I nearly peed my pants
When both there boyfriends
Showed up at my house to kick my ass

But if I had a nickel
For everytime they ate each other out
I'd have about 85 cents

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Hardball
©1992 shockorama music pub. / lyrics & melody by Bob Schneider

When I was a kid I learned a lesson from another brother
Older than myself a lesson later that helped
It was a fundamental lesson in the rules of life we're living
Giving me the power later on to help myself
Sometimes you gotta learn the hardest way there is to learn
Can't teach a young man any faster said the master to the hopper
So I do the best I can see this life and understand
This life I lead just like my poppa said

I'm playing hardball 
And that's straight down the middle 
And straight down the line
So if you're gonna play the game of life son
You better play hardball

I’m up at the crack of dawn. I put my uniform on. 
I’m catching the bus without a fuss while I’m sportin’ a yawn. 
I get to work late. I’m not feelin’ too great 
’Cause irritated and berated are my boss’ best traits. 
He says for me to wash the store, sweep and mop the floor. 
Do the dishes grant my wishes or you work here no more. 
I get minimum wage, I feel I’m trapped in a cage 
But I can’t survive or stay alive without gettin’ paid. 

My boss’ name is hakheem. I’m not saying he’s mean 
But if you’re leanin you’re cleanin until your hands turn green. 
I knew a man named Jake. The crap he couldn’t take. 
He said, “the manager will challenge ya. I’ll be at his wake.” 
He brought a gun to the store. The manager asked what for. 
He said, “I’m tired” and fired and ran out the door 
But hakheem wasn’t hurt when he pulled off his shirt. 
He had a vest on his chest that made the bullets not work. 

(lyrics form Beverly Hillbillies then repeat 1st verse)

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Hawaii
lyrics by Bob Schneider

I wanna go to Hawaii
Lay in the sun
Spend a lotta money
Have a little fun
Lay out on the rollin sea
Let my mind take a trip on me
When I take it to Waikiki
All I’m gonna feel is free

There's got to be a better place than this place I’m living's giving me the blues

I wanna got to Hawaii
Walked along the shore
Watch all my trouble's vanish
I don't wanna feel no more
Wanna run with the wind for wings
Wanna do all those crazy things
Wanna live on the other side
Wanna know what love's like

There's got to be a better place than this place I’m living's giving me the blues
I want coconut covered palm trees and grass skirt wearing greasy golden tans and plans that never fail I’m gonna set my self free
Down in Hawaii

I need a place in the sun where I can run to
Maybe have some fun too maybe get some sun too 
And on the flipside catch a good vibe seaside in the Honolulu sunshine
Making records got me trippin need a place where I can kick it and relax
No flack just mornin wood and good good blue green oceans and

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The Headless Samurai of Oatmogie, Oklahoma
©1998 shockorama music pub. / music & lyrics by Bob Schneider

The headless samurai of Oatmogie, Oklahoma
He's a crazy mother fucker who just woke from a coma
He's screaming and he's dreaming and he just can't get to bed 
He's a man on a mission yeah he's got to get a head

But his head's in Pasadena in a pipe shop in the mall
And his skin has been removed and he has no brain's at all
His head's a candleholder on sale for twenty bucks
And there's a goofy kid named Freddy and he couldn't give a fuck

That the headless samurai of Oatmogie, Oklahoma
A crazy mother fucker whose heart has turned to stonea
He's crazy and obsessed and his pencil's full of lead
He's a man on a mission yeah he's got to get a head

But his head's in Freddy's living room on his fucked up TV set
He's smoking dope out of a coke can and he's lighting up a cigarette
He's checking out his purchase with its bony toothy grin
]and he swears that candleholders staring back at him

And he's getting a little freak out but he says its just the pot
So he blows it off and goes to bed after smoking quite a lot
And sometime in the morning maybe three thirty of four
He hears a loud noise on his patio and then someone's at the door

It's the headless samurai of Oatmogie, Oklahoma
And now that crazy mother fuckers come to get just what he wantsa
He's screaming and he's woken freaked out Freddy from his bed
Cause he's a man on a mission he's just got to get ahead

So Freddy's pretty paranoid but invites the stranger in
Even though it's getting late and he doesn't have a head
But the samurai sees his barren skull and he screams that fuckers mine
And Freddy says easy homie you can have just unwind

I see you've lost your head I’ve done the same it's no big deal
Just smoke this crazy north slope trip weed and then see how you feel
He did and felt much better and they chilled and drank some wine
And they talked about the future and they listened to some tunes

And that's how the headless samurai from Oatmogie, Oklahoma
Got his head back even though its just a big old hairless bone ah
He's laughing and he's chilling and he's higher than a kite
And he doesn't have to get a head and everything allright

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Heaven
©1993 shockorama music pub. / lyrics & melody by Bob Schneider

If you want to get to heaven
I can take you there
I can take you up to heaven 
Sprinkle stardust in your hair
If you want to get to heaven
Baby come with me
And I will take you to the place 
You wanna be

If you wanna go to paradise
Then baby I’m your man
I can take you up to paradise 
And to the promised land
If you want to get to paradise
Then baby come with me
And I will take you to the place
I wanna be

Time will tell and you will see
There's got to be a better place for you and me
Take my hand I’ll show you the way
Together you and me we can find a better way

If you wanna get to easy street
Then baby I know the road
I can take you down to easy street
That road is lined with gold
If you wanna get to easy street
Than baby come with me
And I’ll take you to the place 
You wanna be

Let's go

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Heavy
©2000 shockorama music pub. / music & lyrics by Bob Schneider

Day after day
Press onto each other
Week after week
Running for cover
While the ants and spiders
They tear at your skin
The beast in the shadows is
Your only friend
And the promise of tomorrow
Is a pale gray ghost
Who’ll pile on the tears
Pile on the tears
See who can pile on the most
Till you can’t stand
And you’re down n your knees
And the whole world wants you
And it’s begging you please
And you’re almost home
But you’ll never make it
It’s heavy too heavy
To make it alone
And the worlds like bullets 
Fly from your lips
And stack into ruins
And break me to bits
And tumble from the air
And ruin my clothes
And sink me down low
And the screams don’t worry
And the crabs have enough to eat
At the bottom of the ocean
Where the darkness sleeps
And the weight of the world presses down down down
Till it cracks your bones

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Hey Killer
lyrics by Bob Schneider

Hey killer how you doing
Hey killer won't you show me the way
You wear your shiny friend round town
Under your coat six bullets and a reason
That I can't figure out
Does it make you feel much better
Does it alleviate the fear inside
Does it make you forget her
Does it make you stronger
Does it give you the chance to take another motherfucker's life
Hey killer that's a nice suit you've got on
Hey killer won't you tell me what's going on
Are you gonna get to sleep tonight
With blood on your hands tell me what it's like
Does it give you the power
Does it feel so good give it back to yourself
Pull the trigger yeah I feel you could
Hey killer what's your kid doing tonight
Hey killer is he out there out of sight
Does it comfort you to know he's surrounded by madmen and women
With a momentary hairtrigger cough I’ve seen enough
Where's the love in this
Where's the love in this where's the love in you
What did I miss where's the love in this
Hey killer let's go to war baby
Hey killer let's have a little more maybe
C'mon I know it's for your own protection
Does it give you an erection you've got to protect your misdirection
Shoot that guy he wants to rape your old lady
Shoot your lady she wants to fuck him maybe
The world's so tough on you
Where's the love in you
Hey killer where's the love in you
Hey killer you're the reason I’m trying
Hey killer I can't keep on lying
To myself to feel good inside
Tell me how so I can try and hide
I'm gonna love you kill me baby
I'm gonna love you fill me baby
With bullets or love it doesn't matter
I'm gonna love you anyway
Hey killer I’m gonna love you anyway

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Holiday House
©1998 shockorama music pub. / music & lyrics by Bob Schneider

His spells weren't casting and the bait looked mighty friendly
And he understood he wouldn't feel a thing
And a fountain went running through the fog filled surrender
And his mind went dingaling
And his pride never vanished it just got hidden under layers
Of congeniality and leather smiles
While he was burning both ends down at the holiday house
In the land of the crocodile

While he was scooping out Godzilla’s guts and lacquering up the podium
He felt the cherub nugget of his pride
He spun himself a hula dream from every lie he heard her spit out
Everybody's somebody inside
But who the hell was the gay guy with the shells down in his pocket
And his teeth all made of broken tile
Burning both ends down at the holiday house
In the land of the crocodile

And while the explosions weren't offensive they were leisurely correct
And they knocked out all the sense he'd acquired
And though the needle didn't hurt much and the electric rain fell
He couldn't tell if he was happy or just tired
And when the lights went out alltogether with a lurch
He just collapsed on the floor in a pile
Burning both ends down at the holiday house
In the land of the crocodile

And the waitress couldn't save him with her tarantula dance
And his friends all took a trip to the moon
And his momma bought a tubetop ticket to the great beyond
And said I’ll be back boy on every afternoon
And though his belly shook with spiders and the butterflies were damaged
And they lounged like the dead in the bile
He was burning both ends down at the holiday house
In the land of the crocodile

And thirty years of agony a candle in his throat
And a thousand cheers from Satan’s many friends
Wouldn't help the ankle bites or bitter little treasures
Because the road of life it never really ends
So count your coppers sweetie and thank Jesus you're contented
Cause the range goes right off the dial
When you're burning both ends down at the holiday house
In the land of the crocodile

And everybody changes why they change is no ones business
And what your business is is anybody's guess
Just make sure your money's spent and every little turnip thought
You ring out of your head is heaven blessed
Then maybe all avoidance to the contradictory nature of the blues will
Pass you by in sweet denial
While you're burning both ends down at the holiday house
In the land of the crocodile

If this city had a heart which it doesn't I’d imagine 
That that muscle it'd be made out of coal
And it'd burn like the ashes of the dead sun mutants
Everybody's got to dig their own hole
And if you're gonna go under well you might as well go under
While you can still go under in style
Burning both ends down at the holiday house
In the land of the crocodile

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Holy Macaroni and the Stutter Jive King (sung to the tune of "Man of the Year")
by Bob Schneider

Holy macaroni and the stutter jive king
Used to eat the night while they'd do their thing
They got the ravioli in the pocket of your pants
And it ain't nobody's business if the kid don't dance

Sick and tired's easy going further fast and fun
Better save your bullets everybody's got a gun
Gracious introspection and she's living in the mud
You know she got more onion breath than your mama got pud

Like the licorice flavor if you mix it with the dead
Used to drive a ranger but that was years before your head
These is good for nothin but baby those is somethin else
Better hurry before all that chocolate acid melts

Lenny ain't no supper hick and Jennies go the clap
You better take a quick scootch cause she's bout to take crap
Holy macaroni was a busy little snapper
Bought a tonic healing jug of Kool-Aid from a flapper

Your butts bigger manda than a boiler maker mantra
Join the foreign legion baby box your sister's contra
Cause the stutter jive king's a kooky million dollar flake
Let em spoon check mitzi cause the file is in the cake

Ohoh boys they're off again leotards and all
Could you lend an ear because the sky's about to fall
The ball'll get you rollin but that coke's an easy sub
Just mix me up some Charlottesville and hot Vicks’s vapo rub

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Home
©1999 shockorama music pub. / words & music by Bob Schneider

Woke up this morning filled with dread
With one less day left before I’m dead
& gone. Dead & gone
Woke up running running scared
Looking for an answer that just isn’t there
I’m gone. So far gone
Just gotta find some way outta here
Just gotta find some way...home

Woke up this morning with a curse on my breath
Eaten up and beating myself to death
Till I’m gone. Gone
Woke up naked there on the floor
Don’t know if I know who I am anymore
I’m gone. Gone

Woke up to find I was all alone
Scream on my lips head full of bones
Gone. Gone
Woke up so tired woke up so scared
Reached for my heart just to find it wasn’t there but gone. Gone.
I’m sick of running can’t stop lying
I’m tired of trying feel like dying. I’m gone

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Homemade Gun
©1991 shockorama music pub. / lyrics & melody by Bob Schneider

I got a gun in my pocket that I made from scratch
Like the bear in Davy Crockett you met your match
A victim of abuse when I was a kid
I make no excuses I keep the truth hid
Its out in the open and plain to see
I'm payin back the world for what’s been done to me
I’m turning the tables your fuckin paying the price
Stay inside when you’re able you better take my advice

I’m taking no prisoners I’m shooting to kill
I’m mad getting madder say I cant but I will
I ain't got nothing to lose I haven’t already lost
Ill get what I can no matter what the cost
Stay outta sight this is a mission I’m on
You wanna put up a fight tell me how you fight a time bomb

A tick ticking time bomb

Set into motion by people closing their eyes
Now your feeling the explosion now your acting surprised
A victim of a nation to blind to see
The slow disintegration of society
So turn out the lights and write my name on a tag
The party’s just starting you better bring a lotta body bags
You better bring a lotta bodybags

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Horses & Ponies
©2000 shockorama music pub. / music & lyrics by Bob Schneider

Horses & ponies and butterfly wings
Little red angels and strawberry springs
Bright young boys with their diamond rings
Wouldn’t ever change a goddamn thing

She’s all messed up inside
All dressed up and nowhere to hide
All rain on and nowhere to run
So come on boys lets have some fun

The back alley spiders with their crooked little grins
And the underwater snakes and their tobacco tins
And the little mama’s boys with their banged up shins
They all took their chances again and again

Her daddy was a thin stick of dynamite
With a psychotic stare and an overbite
Said I love my little girl with all my might
As he’d sneak into her her room in the blue moonlight
He’d drag her through the bottomland as he held her tight

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Hot Beer and Cold Women
lyrics by Bob Schneider 

I don’t live in California
I heard that was the place
For goodlooking women 
That you don’t have to chase

I live here in Laredo
And I love my mobile home
But late at night I’m all alone
Stroking on my bone

Oh oh oh
Hot beer and cold women
I don’t think that I’ll ever get away from

She said she was seventeen
She looked like she might do
But when the police showed up at my apartment
I knew that we were through

Oh oh oh
Hot beer and cold women
I guess I’d have to say
Hot beer and cold women
I don’t think that I’ll ever get away from

The city turned off my
Good ole electricity
I went and got some warm bush
Over at the circle k
I went on home and I put it
In my dark apartment
I called up an old girlfriend and she said,
“go fuck yourself you big asshole.”

Oh oh oh
Hot beer and cold women
They sure do take their toll
But all these hot beer and cold women
Seem to have some kind of hold over my soul

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