Lyrics

White Line Fever

I got it off the children of Captain Beefheart
They'd been locked in the forest for many years
They could not help it
They were retards from the Los Angeles district 

There was Tim
There was Tim Two
There was Rob
There was Dave the Eagle
And the mad Greek woman, the Hydra

It was White Line Fever
Over and over again
Over and over again

They had us trapped in the hills
Playing their Los Angeles music over and over
It sounded like Amon Düül at first 
But in fact it was a plot by three of them

We thought they wore masks
Until we asked them to take them off
They took the trout replica a bit too far 

They would copy Darkly My Love 
They were cool cats
They were White Line Fever
They were a bunch of twats

White Line Fever
White Line Fever

Often on the beach they would play for ever and ever
In the sandy surf of L.A. County
One day they put their sandals on and decided to go in to Rochdale 
They were pretty outta sight

Orpheo, the ancient name from Greece 
Orpheo, Tim Presley, how many names did they have?
Nobody knew
Was it Latin?
Was it Yamaha?
Nobody knew

So they travelled like the born-again Christians
Or the Jehovah's Witnesses
So they travelled and travelled
Till they reached the holy town of Ro'dale
And Nob End
And Ramsbottom 
To find their true wagon, Christianity
They were so happy!
They were so happy, they could not describe it themselves!

Festivals
Sauna in the hotels
Fantastic views of the English countryside
They were besides themselves with happiness

Their tour guide, Dave, put a stocking over his head, and you couldn't tell the difference
Following their leader blindlessly and obeying in all goodness
The long trail to the Lancashire hilltops
Happy in their fulfilment

Little did they know they were paying by the minute for the tape they were wasting