Written by Carl Hiaasen & Warren Zevon

My baby is a basket case
A bipolar mama in leather and lace
Face like an angel---she's a perfect waste
My baby is a basket case

Dracula's daughter, Calamity Jane
Smoke on the water, water on the brain
She's pretty as a picture---and totally crazed
My baby is a basket case

She's gonna make a madman outta me
She's gonna make a madman outta me

She's manic-depressive and schizoid, too
The friskiest psycho that I ever knew
We're paranoid lovers lost in space
My baby is a basket case

My baby's gonna celebrate
I'm being dragged through the nuthouse gates
Got my straitjacket on and I'm taking her place
My baby is a basket case

She finally made a madman outta me
She finally made a madman outta me
My baby made a madman outta me
She finally made a madman outta me

Warren: I read Basket Case in typescript a good while before Carl Hiaasen suggested we write the song for the band in the book. I said, "I thought you'd never ask!" He faxes or e-mails me lyrics, I FedEx him demos, as we've done in the past.

Written by Warren Zevon

Lord Byron had a lot of luggage
He took it when he traveled far and wide
He didn't get to bathe very often
But he liked to change his clothes all the time

I had a little friend named Mister Johnson
Who always tried to be like me
He rose to the heights of this profession
He was hard on his friends and family

Still out here in the wind and rain
Look a little older but I feel no pain
And it stands to reason
I'm still looking for love

I went to the Henley Regatta
Intending to put out to sea
They pronounced me persona non grata
Goes to show that you can't come and go
as you please

Still out here in the wind and rain
Look a little older but I feel no pain
And it stands to reason
I'm still looking for love

Looking for a needle in a haystack
It's pretty hard to find
Every dog has his day, Jack
I'm still waiting for mine

Still out here in the wind and rain
A whole lot older but I feel no pain
And it stands to reason
I'm still looking for love

Written by Paul Muldoon & Warren Zevon

She stood beside my narrow bed
To check my E.K.G.
She shook her pretty little head
At what's become of me
I thought I glimpsed a path that led
Through rhododendron days
And fuchsia nights to the boatshed
In which we two once lay

But she gazed only at my chart
The valleys and the peaks
Brought back the time she broke my heart
In Macgillycuddy's Reeks

But she gazed only at my chart
The valleys and the peaks
Brought back the time she broke my heart
In Macgillycuddy's Reeks

I saw her on Killarney's shore
One morning in July
When I still thought I was a thorn
Trying to find a side
I met her in the little launch
That runs to Innisfallen
Hunched together, haunch to haunch
Trying to keep my balance

But she upset my applecart
She kissed me on the cheek
And I was struck by Cupid's dart
In Macgillycuddy's Reeks
Macgillycuddy's Reeks
Macgillycuddy's Reeks
I was struck by Cupid's dart
In Macgillycuddy's Reeks

She was a systems analyst
For a dot com company
She said, "You think because we've kissed
I'll be yours eternally
I'll sign another pre-nup
And we'll merge our P.L.C.s
That's why most girls go belly-up
In this economy

But when it comes to a jump start
Your forecast's pretty bleak
The NASDAQ goes by dips and starts
Like Macgillycuddy's Reeks
The NASDAQ goes by dips and starts
Like Macgillycuddy's Reeks

She looked only at my chart
The valleys and the peaks
Brought back the time she broke my heart
In Macgillycuddy's Reeks
Macgillycuddy's Reeks
Macgillycuddy's Reeks
That was the time she broke my heart
In Macgillycuddy's Reeks

Warren: Macgillycuddy's Reeks is a mountain range in Kerry. I think "reeks" is related to "ridge."

Written by Hunter S. Thompson & Warren Zevon

You met her in a Turkish town
But you didn't want to bring her here
You didn't want her hanging around
In the Kingdom of Fear
So you left her there

You're a whole different person
You're a whole different person
You're a whole different person
When you're scared

The eagle screams on Friday
The Colts are doomed this year
The fat's finally in the fire
In the Kingdom of Fear
Dangerous creeps are everywhere

You're a whole different person...
When you're scared

We have ways to make you talk
You won't like at all
If you can't run, walk
If you can't walk crawl
But don't look down
It's a long, long fall
And you loved her in a Turkish town
But you didn't want to bring her here
You didn't want her hanging around
In the Kingdom of Fear
So you let left her there

You're a whole different person...
You're a whole different person when you're scared

Michael Wolff organ

Warren: I visited Hunter in Aspen a couple of times with the best songwriting intentions, but we always got...distracted. We wrote the song by phone.

Written by Mitch Albom & Warren Zevon

He was born in Big Beaver by the borderline
He started playing hockey by the time he was nine
His dad took the hose and froze the back yard
And Little Buddy dreamed he was Rocket Richard
He grew up big and he grew up tough
He saw himself scoring for the Wings or Canucks
But he wasn't that good with a puck

Buddy's real talent was beating people up
His heart wasn't in it but the crowd ate it up
Through pee-wee's and juniors, midgets and mites
He must have racked up more than six hundred fights
A scout from the flames came down from Saskatoon
Said, "There's always room on our team for a goon
Son, we've always got room for a goon"

There were Swedes to the left of him
Russians to the right
A Czech at the blue line looking for a fight
Brains over brawn---that might work for you
But what's a Canadian farm boy to do
What else can a farm boy from Canada to do
But what's a Canadian farm boy to do
What else can a farm boy from Canada to do

Hit somebody! was what the crowd roared
When Buddy the goon came over the boards
"Coach," he'd say, "I wanna score goals"
The coach said, "Buddy, remember your role
The fast guys get paid, they shoot, they score
Protect them, Buddy, that's what you're here for

Protection is what you're here for
Protection---it's the stars that score
Protection---kick somebody's ass
Protection---don't put the biscuit in the basket just
Hit some, Buddy! It rang in his ears
Blood on the ice ran down through the years
The king of the goons with a box for a throne
A thousand stitches and broken bones
He never lost a fight on his icy patrol
But deep inside, Buddy only dreamed of a goal
He just wanted one damn goal

There were Swedes at the the blue line
Finns at the red
A Russian with a stick heading straight for his head
Brains over brawn---that might work for you
But what's a Canadian farm boy to do
What else can a farm boy from Canada to do
But what's a Canadian farm boy to do
What else can a farm boy from Canada to do

In his final season, on his final night
Buddy and a Finn goon were pegged for a fight
Thirty seconds left, the puck took a roll
And suddenly Buddy had a shot on goal

The goalie committed, Buddy picked his spot
Twenty years of waiting went into that shot
The fans jumped up, the Finn jumped too
And coldcocked Buddy on his follow through
The big man crumbled but he felt all right
'Cause the last thing he saw
was the flashing red light
He saw that heavenly light

There were Swedes to the left of him
Russians to the right
A Czech at the blue line looking for a fight
Take care of your teeth---that might work for you
But what's a Canadian farm boy to do
What else can a farm boy from Canada to do
But what's a Canadian farm boy to do
What else can a farm boy from Canada to do

Sid McGuiness guitar
Paul Shaffer organ
Tony Levin bass
David Letterman additional vocals

Warren: Ironically, Mitch Albom and I laid out "The Hockey Song" at his beach house south of L.A. He's a good musician, so he co-wrote the music too. He e-mailed more ideas to me from around the country, and we finally finished the song on a few long long-distance calls from Rarotonga, where he was taking a break from covering winter sports. When we decided to include the hockey song on the album, I lightened up my intentions a little. That's why I put that emblem "Old Velvet Nose" on all my records. It's hard to get too pompous when your trademark is a skull wearing your glasses!

Written by Larry Klein & Warren Zevon

I've got a bitter pot of je ne sais quoi
Guess what---I'm stirring it with a monkey's paw
Since I saw you coming out of my barber's shop
In that skimpy little halter top

Did you light the candles? Did you put on "Kind of Blue?"
Did you use that Ivy League voodoo on him, too?
He thinks he'll be alright but he doesn't know for sure
Like every other unindicted coconspirator

Mata Hari had a house in France
Where she worked on all her secret plans
Men were falling for her sight unseen
She was a genius

There's a face in every window of the Songwriters' Neighborhood
Everybody's your best friend when you're doing well---I mean good
The poet who lived next door when you were young and poor
Grew up to be a backstabbing entrepreneur

Albert Einstein was a ladies' man
While he was working on his universal plan
He was making out like Charlie Sheen
He was a genius

When you dropped me and you staked your claim
On a V.I.P. who could make your name
You latched on to him and I became
A minor inconvenience
Your protégé don't care about art
I'm the one who always told you you were smart
You broke my heart into smithereens
And that took genius

You and the barber make a handsome pair
Guess what---I never liked the way he cut your hair
I didn't like the way he turned your head
But there's nothing I can do or say I haven't done or said

Everybody needs a place to stand
And a method for their schemes and scams
If I could only get my record clean
I'd be a genius

Derouin and Charlie Bisharat violins
Evan Wilson viola
Larry Corbett cello

Warren: When Larry Klein and I collaborate, he sends me an instrumental track from his studio, which I redo in my studio. He had the wah-wah pedal, '70s-style funk thing going. I thought it was very peculiar, but I went along with it. When I started to add the kind of string arrangement they did back then, it turned into something much more like my "classical" writing.

Written by Serge Gainsbourg

Pour leur plaire aux femmes
Dites donc
Dites-moi Madame
Qu'ai-je donc
Perfides ou sinceres
C'est selon
Quand faut s'en defaire
C'est coton

Avec une gueule pareille
Nom de nom
N' me manqu' aux oreilles
Des pompons
Et si je marchais a
Croupetons
J'aurais tout du pauvre A-
liboron

Laissez-moi
Laissez-moi tranquille
Laissez-moi
Laissez-moi
Laissez-moi tranquille
Laissez-moi

Allez sans esclandre
Mes chatons
Allez vous faire pendre
Allez donc
Ailleurs qu'a mon gilet
A quoi bon
Je n' suis pas le gibet
D' Montfaucon

Laissez-moi
Laissez-moi tranquille
Laissez-moi
Laissez-moi
Laissez-moi tranquille
Laissez-moi

Warren: I love - we all love - Serge Gainsbourg. I thought it would be fun to do a track in French ("Laissez Moi Tranquille") with my daughter, who went to school in Paris.

Written by Dan McFarland

This time I have to leave
It's all too clear
It's plain to see
No use in hanging round
Like a dog that whines and cries
This time I have to leave

Did you hear that I'm attached
I'm on a dead end path
Can't you see it hurts me so
But I really got to go
This time I have to leave

Well, I'm gonna disappear
Stayed too long, I'll shake my tears
You gave your all---we weren't shy
So thanks again---it's been nice
But this time I have to leave
It's all too clear
It's plain to see
No use in hanging round
They tell me I'm outta bounds
This time I have to leave

Well, it looks as though I'll be gone for awhile
So try not to get too riled
There'll be another time
When we can unwind
But I got to get it on down the line

This time I have to leave
It's all too clear
It's plain to see
No use in hanging round
You'll get by somehow
This time I have to leave

But love won't go away
I feel that I've got to stay
And go on living a lie
With you I know there's no goodbye
This time i have to leave
It's all too clear
It's plain to see
No use in hanging round
After all, anyway, anyhow---
This time I have to leave

Warren: "I Have to Leave" was written by my high school surfing buddy Danny McFarland. I dug it and felt it fit the concept of the record perfectly.

Written by Paul Muldoon & Warren Zevon

I was staying at the Marriott
With Jesus and John Wayne
I was waiting for a chariot
They were waiting for a train
The sky was full of carrion
"I'll take the mazuma"
Said Jesus to Marion
"That's the 3:10 to Yuma
My ride's here..."

The Houston sky was changeless
We galloped through bluebonnets
I was wrestling with an angel
You were working on a sonnet
You said, "I believe the seraphim
Will gather up my pinto
And carry us away, Jim
Across the San Jacinto
My ride's here..."

Shelley and Keats were out in the street
And even Lord Byron was leaving for Greece
While back at the Hilton, last but not least
Milton was holding his sides
Saying, "You bravos had better be
ready to fight
Or we'll never get out of East Texas tonight
The trail is long and the river is wide
And my ride's here"

I was staying at the Westin
I was playing to a draw
When in walked Charlton Heston
With the Tablets of the Law
He said, "It's still the Greatest Story"
I said, "Man, I'd like to stay
But I'm bound for glory
I'm on my way
My ride's here..."