The Downtown Talent Scout

Frank Zappa (lead guitar, vocals) Elliot Ingber (rhythm guitar) Roy Estrada (bass) Jimmy Carl Black (drums) Ray Collins (tambourine) The kids are freaking out Everybody's goin' nuts The heats out every night To call up names and kick thier butts But everytime you turn around You'll see some joker staring back He's got a secret tape recorder And a camera in a sack Pretending that he's just another Of the kiddies freaking out But they pay him off in acid Cos he's a downtown talent scout He's got your name And he's got your face He's got your ex-old lady's place He's here to see whats goin down And they don't believe the things he's found The badges gleam and the minors scream When he pulls on the scene They got no warrants in their pockets But that badge makes them supreme You kids are smoking dandelions You're sniffing paper bags baby You're dropping Good N' Plenties We can tell your posture sags Now line up here against the wall Your bodies frail and thin And open up your pockets While we dump the evidence in Well they know that smoking flowers Won't win a case in court And they know that Good N' Plenties Aren't the psychedelic sort But they tear your place apart Because they simply couldn't pass A chance to drag some freaks downtown For smoking devil grass Well you never get your day in court The food downtown is foul The day of trial you nearly die With maggots in your bowel But modern law and justice Has advanced to such a point That a jury trial is useless They simply take you to the joint Cause after all you look so freaky How could anyone believe That what you think and what you feel Comes close at all to what is real Blow your harmonica son