That's some good shirtless death. Some damn good shirtless death.

Lots of critics and people who spend too much time thinking about music say that Beck is a genius.  I assume it’s just because of this video. In fact, here is what I know about Beck:

  • This video rules;
  • I once knew someone who thought the lyric “two turntables with a microphone” was “tempt two devils with a microphone;”
  • I know the lyric above is not from this Beck song, a-hole;
  • The best part of this video, out of the million good parts of this video, is right near the beginning when he tries to do the cool jump off the dirt pile;
  • The psychedelic rooftop shirtless Mexican guitar player is like, the 5th best thing in this video.  Think about THAT statement.

Watch the video and read the lyrics after the jump.  And if you are gonna sing the song in a car, LEARN the lyrics.  Don’t just murmur until the “who’s chokin’ on the splinters” part comes on.  I hate people who do that.  I’d like to stick them in a cage with the people who do the hand claps during “Take the Money and Run” and set them on fire. Now get cool. 90’s losers!

In the time of chimpanzees I was a monkey
Butane in my veins and I’m out to cut the junkie
With the plastic eyeballs, spray-paint the vegetables
Dog food stalls with the beefcake pantyhose
Kill the headlights and put it in neutral
Stock car flamin’ with a loser and the cruise control
Baby’s in reno with the vitamin d
Got a couple of couches, sleep on the love-seat
Someone came sayin’ I’m insane to complain
About a shotgun wedding and a stain on my shirt
Don’t believe everything that you breathe
You get a parking violation and a maggot on your sleeve
So shave your face with some mace in the dark
Savin’ all your food stamps and burnin’ down the trailer park

Yo. cut it.

Soy un perdedor
I’m a loser baby, so why don’t you kill me?

(double barrel buckshot)
Soy un perdedor
I’m a loser baby, so why don’t you kill me?

Forces of evil on a bozo nightmare
Ban all the music with a phony gas chamber
’cuz one’s got a weasel and the other’s got a flag
One’s on the pole, shove the other in a bag
With the rerun shows and the cocaine nose-job
The daytime crap of the folksinger club
He hung himself with a guitar string
A slab of turkey-neck and it’s hangin’ from a pigeon wing
You can’t write if you can’t relate
Trade the cash for the beef for the body for the hate
And my time is a piece of wax fallin’ on a termite
who’s chokin’ on the splinters

Soy un perdedor
I’m a loser baby, so why don’t you kill me?
(get crazy with the cheese whiz)
Soy un perdedor
I’m a loser baby, so why don’t you kill me?
(drive-by body-pierce)
(yo bring it on down)
Soooooyy….

?em llik uoy t’nod yhw os ,ybab resol a m’I rodedreP nu yos
[It’s the Chorus backwards]

(I’m a driver, I’m a winner; things are gonna change I can feel it)

Soy un perdedor
I’m a loser baby, so why don’t you kill me?
(I can’t believe you)
Soy un perdedor
I’m a loser baby, so why don’t you kill me?
(Nlehh…)
Soy un perdedor
I’m a loser baby, so why don’t you kill me?
(Sprechen Sie Deutsch hier, Baby!)
Soy un perdedor
I’m a loser baby, so why don’t you kill me?
(know what I’m sayin’? )

Filed under: Beck, Generation X