words: Biafra. music: Biafra, Ray
Tonight's the night that we got the truck We're goin' downtown gonna beat up drunks Your turn to drive I'll bring the beer It's the late late shift to one to fear
And ride, ride how we ride
We ride, lowride
It's roundup time where the good whores meet
Gonna drag one screaming off the street
And ride, ride how we ride
Got a black uniform and a silver badge
Playin' cops for real, playin' cops for pay
Let's ride, lowride
Pull down your dress here's a kick in the ass
Let's beat you blue 'til you shit in your pants
Don't move, child gotta big black stick
There's six of us, babe so suck on my dick
And ride, ride how we ride
Let's ride, lowride
The left newspapers migth whine a bit
But the guys at the station they don't give a shit
Dispatch calls 'Are you doin' something wicked?'
'No siree, Jack, we're just givin' tickets'
As we ride, ride how we ride
As we ride, ride how we ride
As we ride, ride how we ride
Let's ride, lowride.
words & music: Biafra
Went to a party I danced all night I drank 16 beers And I started up a fight
But now I'm jaded
You're out of luck
I'm rolling down the stairs
Too drunk to fuck
Too drunk to fuck
Too drunk to fuck
Too drunk
To fuck
I'm too drunk, too drunk, too drunk
To fuck
I like your stories
I like your gun
Shooting out cop tires
Sounds like loads and loads of fun
But in my room
Wish you were dead
You ball like the baby
In Eraserhead
Too drunk to fuck
Too drunk to fuck
Too drunk
To fuck
It's all I need right now
Too drunk to fuck
Too drunk to fuck
Too drunk to fuck
Too drunk to fuck
I'm sick soft gooey and cold
Too drunk to fuck
I'm about to drop
My head's a mess
The only salvation is
I'll never see you again
You give me head
It makes it worse
Take out your fuckin' retainer
Put it in your purse
I'm Too drunk to fuck
You're too drunk to fuck
Too drunk
To fuck
It's all I need right now Oh baby
I'm melting like an ice cream bar
Oh baby
And now I got diarrhea
Too drunk to fuck
Yeah, Yeah
Yeah, Yeah
Yeah, Yeah
Oooohhh...
words: Biafra & John Greenway. music: Biafra
I am governor Jerry Brown My aura smiles and never frowns Soon I will be president
Carter power will soon go away
I will be Fuhrer one day
I will command all of you
Your kids will meditate in school
California Uber alles
California Uber alles
Uber alles California
Uber alles California
Zen fascists will control you
Hundred percent natural
You will jog for the master race
And alway wear the happy face
Close your eyes, can't happen here
Big bro' on white horse is near
The hippies won't come back you say
Mellow out or you will pay
California Uber alles
California Uber alles
Uber alles California
Uber alles California
Now it is 1984
Knock knock at your front door
It's the suede denim secret police
They have come for your uncool niece
Come quietly to the camp
You'd look nice as a drawstring lamp
Don't you worry it's only a shower
For your clothes here's a pretty flower
Die on organice poison gas
Serpents eggs already hatched
You will croak you little clown
When you mess with president Brown
California Uber alles
California Uber alles
Uber alles California
Uber alles California.
words & music: Biafra
I am no one But I am well known For I am the Man With the Dogs I stare at you shopping Watch while you're walking Two dogs run around your toes
You turn around
Two eyes break you down
'Now who does that guy think he's starin' at?'
Stop in your tracks
You're being laughed at
Your armored ego is nude
And I do and I do
Crack up 'cos I'm getting to you
I see you I see you
And you're pretty self-conscious too
Down to you church
I'm looking for victims
Spell of the Man With the Dogs
I'll haunt you
And follow you to work
That ghost is back again
Creep into you
I won't go away
You're taking yourself too seriously
I smile as you frown
And turn to walk away
Your habits for all to see
I see a shrew
I see you
And the rodent things you do
You see you I see you
And you're pretty self-conscious too
And I'm gonna crack your mask
Yeah, and I'm gonna laugh
Open wide...
See you again
You'll see me tomorrow
Curse of the Man With the Dogs
You may not like me
You won't forget me
Not safe even in Walgreen's
They've seen me
Ask your friends
'Oh I know him'
Seen but I'm never heard
By your lot
A stare
Is worth a thousand biting phrases
See how stupid you are?
I dare you I dare you
To erase my laser tattoo
You see you you see you
And you're pretty self-conscious too
And I'm gonna crack your mask
Yeah, and I'm gonna laugh
What's inside?
Is it pubic hair
Is it cobweb air
I bet you just don't care...
words & music: Biafra
Who's that kid in the back of the room? Who's that kid in the back of the room? He's setting all his papers on fire He's setting all his papers on fire
Where did he get that crazy smile?
Where did he get that crazy smile?
We all think he's really weird
We all think he's really weird
We never talk to him
He never looks quite right
He laughs at us
We just beat him up
What he sees escapes our sight
We never see him with the girls
We never see him with the girls
He's talking to himself again
He's talking to himself again
Why doesn't he want tons of friends?
Why doesn't he want tons of friends?
Says he's bored when we hang around
Says he's bored when we hang around
We never talk to him
He never looks quite right
He laughs at us
We just beat him up
What he sees escapes our sight
We're all planning our careers
We're all planning our careers
We're all planning our careers
He says we're growing old...
words & music: Biafra
You used to be a partner in crime Now you say you ain't go the time Gotta get serious, gotta plan Gotta pass those entrance exams
Oh my God
It's senior year
All you care about is your career
It's a life sentence
Life sentence
Life sentence
Life sentence
You're squelching your emotions
All you talk about is old times
You don't do what you want to
But you do the same thing everyday
No sense of humor
But such good manners
Now you're an adult
You're boring
It's a life sentence
Life sentence
Life sentence
Life sentence
The walls are closing in
You stayed too long in school
I'd rather stay a child
And keep my self-respect
It being an adult
Means being like you
Are you really you you you
you you you you you you
Are you really you?
No
You're a chained-up dog in a yard
Don't see much, you can't go far
Pace and froth, you're getting sick
Run too fast it'll snap your neck
You say you'll break out
But you never do
You're just another ant in the hill
That's your life sentence.
words & music: Biafra
Some clown in Sacramento was dragged into court
He shot his lawnmower
It disobeyed, it wouldn't start
Might makes right, it's the American Way (R)
They fined him $60 and sent him on his way
You know, some people don't take no shit
Maybe if they did if they'd have half a brain left
You know, some people don't take no shit
Maybe if they did if they'd have half a brain left
words: Biafra. music: Biafra, Ray, Flouride, Slesinger
So you've been to school for a year or two And you know you've seen it all In daddy's car thinkin' you'll go far Back east you type don't crawl
Play ethnicky jazz to parade your snazz
On you five grand stereo
Braggin' that you know how the niggers feel the cold
And the slum's got so much soul
It's time to taste what you most fear
Right Guard will not help you here
Brace yourself, my dear
Brace yourself, my dear
It's a holiday in Cambodia
It's tough kid, but it's life
It's a holiday in Cambodia
Don't foget to pack a wife
You're a star-belly sneech you suck like a leech
You want everyone to act like you
Kiss ass while you bitch so you can get rich
But your boss gets richer off you
Well you'll work harder with a gun in your back
For a bowl of rice a day
Slave for soldiers 'til you starve
Then you head is skewered on a stake
Now you can go where people are one
Now you can go where they get things done
What you need, my son...
What you need, my son...
Is a holiday in Cambodia
Where people dress in black
A holiday in Cambodia
Where you'll kiss ass or crack
Pol Pot, Pol Pot, Pol Pot, Pol Pot etc.
And it's a holiday in Cambodia
Where you'll what you're told
A holiday in Cambodia
Where the slum's got so much soul.
words & music: Sonny Curtis. new lyrics: Biafra
Drinkin' beer in the hot sun I fought the law and I won I fought the law and I won
I needed sex and I got mine
I fought the law and I won
I fought the law and I won
The law don't mean shit if you've got the right friends
That's how this country's run
Twinkies are the best friend I've ever had
I fought the law and I won
I fought the law and I won
I blew George & Harvey's brains out with my six-gun
I fought the law and I won
I fought the law and I won
Gonna write my book and make a million
I fought the law and I won
I fought the law and I won
I'm the new folk hero of the Ku Klux Klan
My cop friends think that's fine
You can get away with murder if you've got a badge
I fought the law and I won
I fought the law and I won
I fought the law and I won
I am the law
So I won
words: Biafra. music: dead kennedys
There's a prefab building and a funny smell Around the hill outside of town Every now and then we wonder But we shrug our shoulders And get back to work...
There's a railroad there and trains go by
And there's people locked in cattle cars
And have you noticed
The french fries at the A&W
Taste a little strange?
I drive down to the disco
Pompadour and pink lamme
I bow and blow the doorman
He parts the chain, says join the game
A quick line in the girls' room
To the bar for the electrodes
A coin into the right slit
Tape my temple, watch me go
Blacks are banned, 'cept on the records
O' life's a cabaret
Like Berlin, 1930
All I crave is my escape
Now I want your perfect Barbie-doll lips
And I wnat your perfect Barbie-doll eyes
Slip my fingers down your Barbie-doll dress
Up and down your Spandex ass
If I lit a match to you
You'd melt before my eyes
C'mere my pretty glow-worm
You look so fine to dance with me
The fly-eye lights a-throbbin'
I'm burning up the floor
Whirling twirling
Close my eyes
No faces judging me
But I want your perfect Barbie-doll lips
And I wnat your perfect Barbie-doll eyes
Slip my fingers down your Barbie-doll dress
Up and down your Spandex ass
A Hitler youth in jogging suit
Smiling face banded 'round his arm
Says 'Line up, you've got work to do
We need dog food for the poor'
A scream bleats out, we're herded into lines
Customized vans wait outside
I'm getting scared of my new home
To Auschwitz Condominiums we go
Oh no
But I want your perfect Barbie-doll lips
And I wnat your perfect Barbie-doll eyes
Let my fingers down your dress
One more time...
words: Biafra. music: Slesinger
I'm tired of self-respect I can't afford a car I wanna be a prefab superstar
I wanna be a tool
Don't need no soul
Wanna make big money
Playing rock and roll
I'll make my music boring
I'll play my music slow
I ain't no artist I'm a businessman
No ideas of my own
I won't offend
Or rock the boat
Just sex and drugs
And rock and roll
Drool, drool, drool, drool, drool...my payola!
Drool, drool, drool, drool, drool...my payola!
You'll pay ten bucks to see me
On a fifteen foot high stage
Fatass bouncers kick the shit
Out of kids who try to dance
If my friends say
I''ve lost my guts
I'll laugh and say
That's rock and roll
But there's just one problem...
Is my cock big enough
Is my brain small enough
For you to make me a star
Give me a toot,
I'll sell you my soul
Pull my strings and I'll go far
And when I'm rich
And meet Bob Hope
We'll shoot some golf
And shoot some dope
Is my cock big enough
Is my brain small enough
For you to make me a star
Give me a toot,
I'll sell you my soul
Pull my strings and I'll go far.
words & music: 6025
I like short songs (Repeat 13 times)
words: Biafra. music: 6025
Sixteen, on the honor roll I wish that I was dead Parents hate me, I got zits And bruises round my head
Pressure's on to get good grates
So I can be like them
Do my homework all the time
I can't go out just then
People they ain't friends at all
They tease and suck me dry
Yell at me when I fuck up
And party while I cry
I look so big on paper
I feel so fucking small
Wanna die and you don't care
Just stride on down the hall
Suicide suicide
Read the paper, wonder why
Turn the light out, then you cry
It's you fault, you made me die
Touch me won't you touch me now
So frozen I can't love
When I was born my mama cried
And picked me up with gloves
Girls, they kick me in the eye
Want answers to the tests
When they get them they drive off
And leave me home to rest
Hold my head
Make me warm
Tell me I am loved
Give me hope
Let me cry
Make me feel
Give me touch
The window's broken bleeding screaming
Lying in the hall
I'm gone no one remembers me
A picture on the wall
'He was such a bright boy
The future in his hands...'
Or a spineless human pinball
Shot around by your demands
Suicide suicide
Goin' to sleep and when I die
You'll look up and realize
Then look down and wipe your eyes
Then go back to your stupid lives
Aw shit.
words: Biafra. music: dead kennedys
Greetings...
This is the Secretary at the State Department of the
United States...We have a problem. The companies
want something done about this sluggish world
economic situation...Profits have been running a
little thin lately and we need to stimulate some
growth...Now we know there's an alarming high
number of young people roaming around in your
country with nothing to do but stir up trouble for the
police and damage private property. It doesn't look
like they'll ever get a job...It's about time we did
something constructive with these people...
We've got thousands of 'em here too. They're
crawling all over...The companies think it's time we
all sit down, have a serious get-together - and start
another war...The president? He loves the idea! All
those missiles streaming overhead to and fro...
Napalm...People running down the road, skin on
fire...The Soviets seem up for it...The Kremlin's
been itching for the real thing for years. Hell,
Afghanistan's no fun...So whadya say?...
We don't even have to win this war. We just want
to cut down on some of this excess population...
Now look. Just start up a draft; draft as many of
those people as you can. We'll call up every last
youngster we can get our hands on, hand 'em
some speed, give 'em an hour or two to learn how
to use an automatic riffle and send 'em on their
way...Libya? El Salvador? How 'bout Northern
Ireland? Or a 'moderately repressive regime' in
South America? We'll just cook up a good Soviet
threat story in the Middle East - we need that oil...
We had Libya all ready to go and Colonel
Khadafy's hit squad didn't even show up. I tell ya...
that man is unreliable. The Kremlin had their
fingers on the button just like we did for that one...
Now just think for a minute - we can make this war
so big - so BIG...The more people we kill in this
war, the more the economy will prosper...We can
get rid of practically everybody on your dole queues
if we plan this right. Take every loafer on welfare
right off our computer rolls...Now don't worry about
those demonstrators - just pump up your drug supply.
So many people have hooked themselves on heroin
and amphetamines since we took over, it's just like
Vietnam. We had everybody so busy with LSD they
never got too strong. Kept the war functioning just
fine...It's easy. We've got our college kids so
interested in beer they don't even care if we start
manufacturing germ bombs again. Put a nuclear
stockpile in their back yard, they wouldn't even
know what it looked like...So how 'bout it? Look - war
is money. The arms manufacturers tell me unless
we get our bomb factories up to full production the
whole economy is going to collapse...The Soviets
are in the same boat. We all agree the time has
come for the big one, so whadya say?!?...That's
excellent. We knew you'd agree... the companies
will be very pleased.
words: Biafra. music: Biafra, Ray
You're from out of town I can tell that by your shoes Flew in for the convention Getting tipsy in a bar
You're leaving pretty late
Gotta get up in the morning
Thinking she's just too expensive
And you know you're...
Probably...
Right!
There's no one on the streets
And you can't find your hotel
You walk a little faster
- someone's following you
The wallet-size bulge
In you double-knit butt
Has money for me
And maybe credit cards
You dart around the next corner
You can't look around
Quick now, fish for the keys for the door
You don't even know where you are
You walk a little faster
I walk a little faster
Sensing that I sense you
Now there's no escape
I can almost taste your dandruff
As I reach out for your face
- and I strike!
words: Biafra. music: Biafra, Ray
Buzzbomb buzzbomb macho-mobile The road's my slave, that's how I feel I cruise alone, I cruise real far Shoo young punk! I love my car
Cross Nevada at 110
Highway 50 and there's nobody there
Sign says, 'Next sign 30 miles!'...
My pension comes
Each penny saves buys more escape from home
I'd rather carouse around all day
Than move into a home
Plow through rest area San-o-Lets
Splat goes the lonely salesman
Still wanking in the men's room...
Buzzbomb buzzbomb tape up loud
Lawrence Welk cranked up to 10
Faster faster in my car
Buzzbomb is my pride and joy
King of the trailer court
Waiting for a nice young man
Who'll love me for my car
Who tells me why I'm cool
Tells me just what I like
When I pretend he's here
Shred through Palm Springs across the golf course
Cops 'round here scratching their heads
Flashing sirens, State patrol... uh oh
They're scuffing up the side of my car
They're shooting out my tires
This ain't no way to go to heaven
Buzzbomb cornered at the 7-11