Hotwax - Beck

It takes a backwash man to sing a backwash song 
Like a frying pan when the fire's gone 
Driving my pig while the bear's taking pictures in the grass 
In my radio smashed 
And I like pianos in the evening sun 
Dragging my heals 'til my day is done 
Saturday night in the Captain's clothes 
Tin horns blowing with my jury 'phros 
Yo soy un disco cabrado* 
Yo tengo chicle en cerabo 
I can't believe my way back when 
My Cadillac pants going much to fast 
Karaoke weekend at the suicide shack 
Community service and I'm still the mack 
Shocked my finger spicing my hand 
I been spreading disease all across the land 
Beautiful air-conditioned sitting in the kitchen 
Wishing I was living like a hit man 
Face down in the guarantees 
Jaundiced marshalls getting busy with ease 
Because I get down I get down 
I get down all the way 
Yo soy un disco cabrado* 
Yo tengo chicle en cerabo 
Sawdust songs of the plaid bartenders 
Western Unions of the country westerns 
Silver foxes looking for romance 
In the chain smoke Kansas flashdance ass pants 
And you got the hotwax residues 
You never lose in your razor blade shoes 
Stealing pesos out of my brain 
Hazard signs down the Alamo lanes 
Radar systems using the souls 
You never get caught with the wax so rotten 
All my days I got the grizzly worms 
Hijacked flavors that I'm flipping like birds 
Yo soy un disco cabrado* 
Yo tengo chicle en cerabo 
girl: "who are you?" 
man: "I'm the enchanting wizard of rhythm." 
girl: "why did you come here?" 
man: "I came here to tell you about the rhythms of the universe...." 
Chorus Translation: "I'm a broken record I have bubblegum in my brain"