[includes a quote from Isn't It Romantic? (Rodgers/Hart)]
Don Pardo: In today's rapidly changing world, musical groups appear almost every day with some new promotional device . . . Some of these devices have been known to leave irreparable scars on the minds of foolish young consumers . . . One such case is seated before you . . . live on stage . . . yes, Terry Bozzio . . .
Terry: That's meeee!
Don Pardo: That cute little drummer . . . Terry recently felt in love with a publicity photo of a boy named Punky Meadows, lead guitar player from a group called ANGEL . . . In the photo, Punky was seen with a beautiful shiny hairdo in a semi-profile which emphasized the pootched out succulence of his insolent pouting rictus . . .
Terry: Ooh, Punky . . .
Don Pardo: The sight of which drove the helpless drummer mad with desire!
I can't stand the way he pouts
('Cause he might not be pouting for me!)
Hah! Pouting for you?
Hah! Punky Meadows? Pouting for you?
His hair's so shiny and it's done real nice
(Til I squirm with ecstasy!)
Punky, Punky, give me your lips
To die on . . . Oh, Punky, isn't it romantic?
Punky, Punky, give me your lips
To die on . . . I promise not to come in your mouth
Punky, Punky, your album's the s****
It's all wrong . . . but listen, this is no laughing matter
I ain't really queer
But if he ever got near
Steven Tyler would PAY to see!
Pay to see
Punky's whips, Punky's whips
His hair's so shiny, I love his hips
I love his teeth, 'n his gums 'n such . . . PUNKY
(What's up, baby?)
You're an ANGEL . . .
(Oh, you know that's the kind of stuff that I like to hear)
You're too much
He's been havin' a rash
(No s***)
That keeps the girls away
Skin doom
(Skin doom!)
Is what the doctors say
I wonder if Punky is rehearsin' today
I'll just go over, 'n hear him play
His hair is so pretty . . . I'd like to b*** his neck
I've heard a rumor he's more fluid than Jeff Beck
(Dig this . . . )
I AIN'T QUEER
I AIN'T GAY
(He's a little fond of chiffon in a wrist array-ee-ay-ee-ay)
A wrist array-he-hey
(That's all it is)
Punky's lips, Punky's lips
Oh, I love his hair, eatin' dunk-y chips
Yes, I love his blink and his blank-blank-blank
Why, maybe he'd like to yank my crank?
YANK IT PUNKY! YANK IT FASTER!
YANK IT HARDER! YANK IT ALL NITE LONG!
COME ON PUNKY! GET FUNKY!
I AIN'T QUEER
(NO NO NO NO)
I AIN'T GAY
(NO NO NO NO)
(He's a little fond of chiffon in a wrist array-he-he-he-hey)
A wrist array-hey
(One more time for the world!)
And then he said:
I AIN'T QUEER
I AIN'T GAY
(He's a little fond of chiffon in a wrist array-ay-hay)
I-I
Lord, I-I'm fo-fo-o-o-nd
Of chiffo-on
In a wrist array-ee-ay-hey
I said
I-I-I-I-I-I-I
I'm a little fo-o-nd
Of chiffo-on
In a wrist array-hey-ay-ay-hey
FZ: Thank you . . . Our birthday boy, Terry Bozzio, sad but true . . . Just a minute . . .
Don Pardo: In today's rapidly changing world, musical groups appear almost every day with some new promotional device . . . Some of these devices have been known to leave irreparable scars on the minds of foolish young consumers . . . One such case is seated before you . . . live on stage . . . yes, Terry Bozzio . . .
Terry: That's meeee!
Don Pardo: That cute little drummer . . . Terry recently felt in love with a publicity photo of a boy named Punky Meadows, lead guitar player from a group called ANGEL . . . In the photo, Punky was seen with a beautiful shiny hairdo in a semi-profile which emphasized the pootched out succulence of his insolent pouting rictus . . .
Terry: Ooh, Punky . . .
Don Pardo: The sight of which drove the helpless drummer mad with desire!
I can't stand the way he pouts
('Cause he might not be pouting for me!)
Hah! Pouting for you?
Hah! Punky Meadows? Pouting for you?
His hair's so shiny and it's done real nice
(Til I squirm with ecstasy!)
Punky, Punky, give me your lips
To die on . . . Oh, Punky, isn't it romantic?
Punky, Punky, give me your lips
To die on . . . I promise not to come in your mouth
Punky, Punky, your album's the s****
It's all wrong . . . but listen, this is no laughing matter
I ain't really queer
But if he ever got near
Steven Tyler would PAY to see!
Pay to see
Punky's whips, Punky's whips
His hair's so shiny, I love his hips
I love his teeth, 'n his gums 'n such . . . PUNKY
(What's up, baby?)
You're an ANGEL . . .
(Oh, you know that's the kind of stuff that I like to hear)
You're too much
He's been havin' a rash
(No s***)
That keeps the girls away
Skin doom
(Skin doom!)
Is what the doctors say
I wonder if Punky is rehearsin' today
I'll just go over, 'n hear him play
His hair is so pretty . . . I'd like to b*** his neck
I've heard a rumor he's more fluid than Jeff Beck
(Dig this . . . )
I AIN'T QUEER
I AIN'T GAY
(He's a little fond of chiffon in a wrist array-ee-ay-ee-ay)
A wrist array-he-hey
(That's all it is)
Punky's lips, Punky's lips
Oh, I love his hair, eatin' dunk-y chips
Yes, I love his blink and his blank-blank-blank
Why, maybe he'd like to yank my crank?
YANK IT PUNKY! YANK IT FASTER!
YANK IT HARDER! YANK IT ALL NITE LONG!
COME ON PUNKY! GET FUNKY!
I AIN'T QUEER
(NO NO NO NO)
I AIN'T GAY
(NO NO NO NO)
(He's a little fond of chiffon in a wrist array-he-he-he-hey)
A wrist array-hey
(One more time for the world!)
And then he said:
I AIN'T QUEER
I AIN'T GAY
(He's a little fond of chiffon in a wrist array-ay-hay)
I-I
Lord, I-I'm fo-fo-o-o-nd
Of chiffo-on
In a wrist array-ee-ay-hey
I said
I-I-I-I-I-I-I
I'm a little fo-o-nd
Of chiffo-on
In a wrist array-hey-ay-ay-hey
FZ: Thank you . . . Our birthday boy, Terry Bozzio, sad but true . . . Just a minute . . .