[Intro — distant gang chant, abruptly cut off] “ALL MOSQUITOES ARE ALWAYS BAD!” [Spoken] Wrong side. [Verse 1 — fast, clipped, barely contained] Paper plate. A folding chair. Something whining in the summer air. Somebody slaps. Somebody swears. Somebody says, “They shouldn’t be here.” I say, “Some mosquitoes are good.” Now I’m explaining myself to the neighborhood. [Chorus — shouted, with a crooked melodic hook] SOME MOSQUITOES ARE GOOD— THAT’S ALL I FUCKING SAID. HOW’D A PASSING OBSERVATION PUT A PRICE UPON MY HEAD? I SAID SOME. YOU HEARD ALL. THAT’S A LOT OF EXTRA MEANING FOR A WORD THAT SMALL. [Verse 2 — quicker, increasingly exasperated] Now I’m chairman of the insect league. Got six fake quotes and a statement to read. “So you approve of every bite?” I came for dinner on a Tuesday night. You’ve got a banner. I’ve got an itch. Somewhere the subject made a switch. [Chorus] SOME MOSQUITOES ARE GOOD— THAT’S ALL I FUCKING SAID. HOW’D A PASSING OBSERVATION PUT A PRICE UPON MY HEAD? I SAID SOME. YOU HEARD ALL. THAT’S A LOT OF EXTRA MEANING FOR A WORD THAT SMALL. [Bridge — bass and voice; everything suddenly stops] One lands on my wrist. I slap it flat. [Gang vocal] “THOUGHT YOU LOVED THEM!” [Spoken, deadpan] Here we go with that. [Breakdown — crushing half-time; gang answers] SOME! A FOUR-LETTER WORD. SOME! THE WORST THING YOU HEARD. SOME! DON’T MAKE IT ALL. LET THE LITTLE WORD STAY SMALL. [Final Chorus — faster, nearly falling apart] SOME MOSQUITOES ARE GOOD— THAT’S ALL I FUCKING SAID. HOW’D A PASSING OBSERVATION PUT A PRICE UPON MY HEAD? I SAID SOME. YOU HEARD ALL. THAT’S A LOT OF EXTRA MEANING FOR A WORD THAT SMALL. [Outro — quiet room; a thin guitar whine approaches] Three in the morning. One beside my head. I flip the record over— Forget what I said. [Full-band stab; narrator joins the gang] ALL MOSQUITOES ARE ALWAYS BAD!
