las chicas con las chicas

Y las cabezas con los (alto) parlantes.

The girls don't want to play like that,
They just want to talk to the boys.
The just want to do what is in their hearts,
And the girls want to be with the girls.
And the boys say, "what do you mean? "
And the boys say, "what do you mean? "
Well there is just no love,
When there's boys and girls.
And the girls want to be with the girls,
And the girls want to be with the girls.
Girls want things that make common sense,
The best for all concerned.
They don't want to have to go out of their way,
And the girls want to be with the girls. (chorus)
And the boys say, "what do you mean? "
And the boys say, "what do you mean? "
Well there is just no love,
When there's boys and girls.
And the girls want to be with the girls, And the girls want to be with the girls.
Girls are getting into abstract analysis,
They want to make intuitive leap.
They are making plans that have far reaching effects.
And the girls want to be with the girls.
And the boys say, "what do you mean? "
And the boys say, "what do you mean?
" Well there is just no love,
When there's boys and girls.
And the girls want to be with the girls. And the girls want to be with the girls.

David Byrne's Drugs

'Drugs - I couldn't handle marijuana...it made me paranoid...and quaaludes and bennies and speed and meth seemed so...you know, chemical...physical...definitely not mind-expanding. Tried Angel Dust once: Chris, Tina, and I, and Tina's brother went to a guy's apartment for dinner...an interior decorator by trade...and he gave us all a puff on this treated cig...well, I could barely walk and I sure didn't wanna eat anymore. Scary stuff...but I guess it's cheaper than dinner for six.

Cocaine...didn't do anything for me the first couple of times. Then I guess it found its brain receptor cells. Everybody was doing it then. The road crew would deal to the band...probably the only way they made a decent living. Everybody'd yak, yak, yak...to anyone at all...instant friendship for a few minutes. It made me simultaneously very talkative and secretive. Kinda like matter-meets-anti-matter. A problem waiting to happen. Too many late nights (it was usually accompanied by drinking) and spaced out days and soon I decided to stop. So other than a couple 'a wild nights, I stopped.

I saw people do funny things. Once, a Hollywood agent came over to the table in a restaurant where Jerry and I were eating...to say hi, I guess. He said hi, told us he represented some mutual friends, and then plonked his head down on the table and fell asleep...out. His girlfriend took him away, but he left a little white packet on the table.

Some friends got into heroin. It was cheaper. I tried it. Too strong. I wasn't exactly gonna get a lot of writing done on that stuff. But I guess it was a mythic drug..."be-bop...hard rock"...hip writers, etc. The French loved the stuff...musta thought it was cool.

Jerry and I got invited to visit the Hollywood producer Julia Phillips once...Jesus H. Christ!...a real Beverly Hills mansion, and she was in the back office looking like a mad scientist...the place was piled with scripts, records, Bunsen-burners, test-tubes, various highly flammable chemicals and books. A sharp cookie with real no-bullshit eyes and ears, but totally out of control. I'm glad none of us got into that stuff.