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