Clip vidéo
Crédits
INTERPRÉTATION
Little Feat
Interprète
Bill Payne
Claviers
Lowell George
Guitare
Richie Hayward
Batterie
Bonnie Raitt
Chœurs
Emmylou Harris
Chœurs
Fran Tate
Chœurs
Ken Gradney
Basse
Paul Barrere
Guitare
Sam Clayton
Percussion
COMPOSITION ET PAROLES
Bill Payne
Paroles/Composition
Lowell George
Paroles/Composition
Richie Hayward
Paroles/Composition
Greg Adams
Arrangement
PRODUCTION ET INGÉNIERIE
Lowell George
Production
Sneed Urn
Ingénierie
Paroles
Cold Cold Cold
-- Lowell George
Tripe Face Boogie
-- Bill Payne, Richard Hayward
Cold, cold, cold
Cold, cold, cold
Freezing, it was freezing in that hotel
I had no money, my special friend was gone
The TV set was busted so she went along
I called room, room service,
I'm down here on my knees
I said a peach or a pear, or a coconut please,
But they was cold
Well it's been a month since I seen my girl
Or a dime to make the call
'Cause it passed me up, or it passed me by,
Or I couldn't decide at all
And I'm mixed up, I'm so mixed up
Don't you know I'm lonely
All the things I had to do
I had to fall in love
You know she's cold
Cold, cold, cold
Cold, cold, cold
That woman is freezing, freezing cold
Well I tried everything to warm her up
Now I'm living in this cold hotel
'Cause she passed me, up or she passed me by,
Or I couldn't decide at all
And I'm mixed up, I'm so mixed up
Don't you know I'm lonely
Of all the things I had to do
I had to fall in love
You know she's cold
Turn your clock back woman when you see me comin' round
My feet don't, feet don't even touch the ground
Yah, ya know she's cold
Oh she's cold (cold)
Ya know she's cold (cold)
Know she's cold (cold)
Cold (cold, cold, cold)
Buffaloed in Buffalo
And I was entertained in Houston
New York, yew nork, you got to choose one
Cause it's a tripe face boogie
Going to boogie my sneakers away
Well I don't want your money
And I don't want your time
Please don't tripe me honey
And I'll give you back your dime
It's a hype face boogie
Going to boogie my sneakers away
Now I don't dig potato chips
And I can't dig torts
But you can tripe my guacamole baby (it's a guaca)
Tripe my shorts
'Cause it's a hype case boogie gonna boogie my scruples away
Hype boogie, tripe boogie, hype boogie
All night long
You bring your guitar, I'll bring the wine
Gonna tripe my guacamole baby just a one more time
Cause It's a tripe face boogie
I said look out!
Give tripe face his way
I said lookout!
Give tripe face his day
I said lookout
Writer(s): William H Payne, Paul Barrere, George Lowell
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