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“Now boys, this game ain’t played for fun
You’re going out there to win
How d’ya win?
Get out there
And snap the other guy’s knee!”
Beat ’em up! Beat ’em up!
Ra Ra Ra
Snap those spinal cords
Ha Ha Ha
The star quarterback lies injured
Unconscious on the football field
Looks like his neck’s been broken
Seems to happen somewhere every year
His mom and dad clutch themselves and cry
Their favorite son will never walk again
Coach says, “That boy gave a hundred percent
What spirit
What a man”
But who cares?
Games over—Let’s go get wasted man
To the 7-11, to the liquor store
Let’s party all night and party some more
Another Trans-Am
Wrapped itself around a telephone pole
“I ain’t drunk, officer
I just fell gettin’ out of my car”
Don’t worry about it, son
We were that way when we were young
You’ve got all the skills
To make a damn good businessman
Happy hour belongs to America’s best-loved thugs
Here comes the 4-wheel prosthetic penises
Got yer gun racks, tractor tires and lynch mob drivers
We couldn’t find a chick to sit in the middle
So we drink ourselves sick
Lean out the windows and pinch ass instead
C’mere
C’mere
Say something to me?
We’ve got him cornered
We’ve got him cornered
Is anybody looking?
Does anybody even care?
No!
Local papers paint us up to be big heroes
City fathers & Chamber of Commerce want us deputized
The stoner gestapo keepin’ your town clean
Get a shave, kid
We’ll pay you as a strike-breaker
Maybe you’ll make Tac Squad for the L.A.P.D.
Hi
I’m your video DJ
I always talk like I’m wigged out on quaaludes
I wear a satin baseball jacket everywhere I go
My job is to help destroy
What’s left of your imagination
By feeding you endless doses
Of sugar-coated mindless garbage
So don’t create
Be sedate
Be a vegetable at home
And thwack on that dial
If we have our way even you will believe
This is the future of rock and roll
How far will you go
How low will you stoop
To tranquilize our minds with your sugar-coated swill
You’ve turned rock and roll rebellion
Into Pat Boone sedation
Making sure nothing’s left to the imagination
| M.T.V. | Get off the air Get off the air |
There’s something I don’t like
About a band who always smiles
Another tax write-off
For some schmuck who doesn’t care
“It’s the new frontier,” they say
It’s wide open, anything can happen
But you’ve got a lot of nerve
To call yourself a pioneer
When you’re too god-damn conservative
To take real chances.
Tin-eared
Graph-paper brained accountants
Instead of music fans
Call all the shots at giant record companies now
The lowest common denominator rules
Forget honesty
Forget creativity
The dumbest buy the mostest
That’s the name of the game
But sales are slumping
And no one will say why
Could it be they put out one too many lousy records?!?
Your time card says your name’s Joe
But we’ll call you 6-3-0
My heart began to pound
Yahoo! It really exists
The American International Pictures logo
I looked up at that Capitol Building
Couldn’t help but wonder why
I felt like saying “Hello, old friend”
Walked up the hill to touch it
Then I unzipped my pants
And pissed on it when nobody was looking
Like a great eternal Klansman
With his two flashing red eyes
Turn around he’s always watching
The Washington monument pricks the sky
With flags like pubic hair ringed ’round the bottom
The symbols of our heritage
Lit up proudly in the night
Somehow fits to see the homeless people
Passed out on the lawn
So this is where it happens
The power games and bribes
All lobbying for a piece of ass
“America’s back,” alright
At the game it plays the worst
Strip mining the world like a slave plantation
No wonder others hate us
And the Hitlers we handpick
To bleed their people dry
For our evil empire
The drug we’re fed
To make us like it
Is God and country with a band
People we know who should know better
Howl, “America riles. Let’s go to war!”
Business scams are what’s worth dying for
Are the Soviets our worst enemy?
We’re destroying ourselves instead
Who cares about our civil rights
As long as I get paid?
The blind Me-Generation
Doesn’t care if life’s a lie
so easily used, so proud to enforce
Just carry on, thankful to be farmed like worms
Old glory for a blanket
As you suck on your thumbs
Real freedom scares you
’Cos it means responsibility
So you chicken out and threaten me
Saying, “Love it or leave it”
I’ll get beat up if I criticize it
You say you’ll fight to the death
To save your worthless flag
If you want a banana republic that bad
Why don’t you go move to one
But what can just one of us do?
Against all that money and power
Trying to crush us into roaches?
We don’t destroy society in a day
Until we change ourselves first
From the inside out
We can start by not lying so much
And treating other people like dirt
It’s easy not to base our lives
On how much we can scam
And you know
It feels good to lift that monkey off our backs
I’m thankful I live in a place
Where I can say the things I do
Without being taken out and shot
So I’m on guard against the goons
Trying to take my rights away
We’ve got to rise above the need for cops and laws
Let kids learn communication
Instead of schools pushing competition
How about more art and theater instead of sports?
People will always do drugs
Let’s legalize them
Crime drops when the mob can’t price them
Budget’s in the red?
Let’s tax religion
No one will do it for us
We’ll just have to fix ourselves
Honesty ain’t all that hard
Just put Rambo back inside your pants
Causing trouble for the system is much more fun
Thank you for the toilet paper
But your flag is meaningless to me
Look around, we’re all people
Who needs countries anyway?
Our land, I love it too
I think I love it more than you
I care enough to fight
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