Soup Is Good Food
(words: Biafra; music: "Dead Kennedys") We're sorry But you're no longer needed Or wanted Or even cared about here Machines can do a better job than you This is what you get for asking questions The unions agree Sacrifices must be made Computers never go on strike To save the working man you've got to put him out to pasture Looks like we'll have to let you go Doesn't it feel fulfilling to know That you--the human being--are now obsolete And there's nothing in hell we'll let you do about it CHORUS Soup is good food--(We don't need you any more) You made a good meal--(We don't need you any more) Now how do you feel--(We don't need you any more) To be shit out our ass And thrown in the cold like a piece of trash We're sorry You'll just have to leave Unemployment runs out after just six weeks How does it feel to be a budget cut* You're snipped You no longer exist Your number's been purged from our central computer So we can rig the facts And sweep you under the rug See our chart? Unemployment's going down If that ruins your life that's your problem Soup is Good Food Etc. We're sorry We hate to interrupt But it's against the law to jump off this bridge You'll just have to kill yourself somewhere else A tourist might see you And we wouldn't want that I'm just doing my job, you know So say uncle And we'll take you to the mental health zoo Force feed you mind-melting chemicals Til even the outside world looks great In hi-tech science research labs It costs too much to bury all the dead The mutilated disease-injected Surplus rats who can't be used anymore So they're dumped (with no minister present) In a spiraling corkscrew dispose-all unit Ground into sludge and flushed away Aw geez Soup is good food You made a good meal etc. We know how much you'd like to die We joke about it on our coffee breaks But we're paid to force you to have a nice day In the wonderful world we just made for you Poor Rats... we human rodents chuckle at least we get a dignified cremation At yet At 6:00 tomorrow morning It's time to get up and go to work
Hellnation
(words & music :D. H. Peligro) Hellnation's when they teach us Profiting from greed Hellnation's what they give us Coke, heroin & speed Hellnation's when they tell you You gotta go clean up your act You're the one who dragged me here And now you drag me back To this Hellnation CHORUS Problem is few care About the people in despair If you help no one You're guilty in the Hellnation Hellnation's when the president Asks for four more fucking years Hellnation's when he gets it By conning poor people and peers Hellnation--got no choice What's the point of trying to vote? When this country makes war We all die in the same boat In this Hellnation CHORUS It's the only world we've got Let's protect it while we can It's all there is and there ain't no more Hellnation--asking please For a nuclear freeze So the unborn kids Get their chance to live and breathe Hellnation asking aid For the minimum wage So the kids of tomorrow Don't wind up slaves to their trade In the Hellnation CHORUS
This Could Be Anywhere (This Could Be Everywhere)
(words: Biafra; music: "Dead Kennedys") Cold concrete apartments Rise up from wet black asphalt Below them a few carcasses Of the long gone age of privacy It takes a scary kind of illness To design a place like this for pay Downtown's an endless generic mall Of video games and fast food chains One by one The little houses are bricked up and condemned A subtle hint to move Before the rats move in This could be anywhere This could be everywhere Those new kids at school seem cool But dad says not to talk to them Stick to your old friends They're not our kind So now there's lots of fights So many people I know Come of age tense and bitter-eyed Can't create so they just destroy C'mon! Let's set someone's dog on fire Empty plastic Culture slum suburbia Is a war zone now Sprouting the kinds of gangs We thought we'd left behind This could be anywhere This could be everywhere Kids at school are taking sides Along color and uniform lines My dad's gone and bought a gun He says he's fed up With crime in this town This could be anywhere This could be everywhere This could be anywhere This could be everywhere Anywhere Everywhere I hope I'm gone before it explodes I linger late at night Waiting for the bus No amount of neon jazz Could hide the oozing vibes of death My dad's a vigilante now He's bringing home these weird-ass friends Like the guy who fires blanks at his TV When Kojak's on Or the guy who shows off his submachine gun To his sixteen-year-old daughter's friends Whose sense of pride and hope Is being in the police reserve This could be anywhere This could be everywhere--Everywhere
A Growing Boy Needs His Lunch
(words: Biafra; music: "Dead Kennedys") In lonely gas stations with mini-marts You'll find rows of them for sale Liquor-filled statues of Elvis Presley Drink like a vampire His disciples flock to such a fitting shrine Sprawled across from his graceless mansion A shopping mall Filled with prayer rugs and Elvis dolls And I wonder Yeah I wonder Will Elvis take the place of Jesus in a thousand years Religious wars Barbaric laws Bloodshed worldwide Over what's left of his myth A growing boy needs his lunch When pesticides get banned we're safe up north We just sell them to those other countries Soon there's lots of exotic deformed babies Somehow that's not our fault Just dip 'em in glaze paint 'em orange and green For the Arizona roadside stands To sell alongside plaster burros and birthbaths And I wonder Yeah I wonder Why so many insects around us feed off the dead Death squads Starvation Foreign aid? Just leave it to the magic of the marketplace A growing boy needs his lunch Everyone should just love each other Dip your toe into the fire Drop your guns and lawsuits and love each other Life begins beyond the bunker And while you're busy hugging in the streets Outgrowing your hatred for all to feel Jiminy Cricket's found a game to play Stick your neck out and trust--It'll be chopped away Jimmy through your locked front doors Rifle through your sacred drawers Line my pockets Deface your dreams Til the cows come home to me Nibbling like an earwig winding through your brain Bound like Lawrence Harvey spreadeagle to a bed The migraine gets worse when we find out we lay eggs And no one in all of Borneo can hear you scream Turn on Tune in Cop out Drop kick Turn in Tune out
Chicken Farm
(words: Biafra; music: "Dead Kennedys") Another rainy morning mingling at the market Bartering for food for another day Rifle shots ring out behind the crumbling buildings Executions have begun Sprawled in the square are today's broken bodies Lots to pick clean if you're first and quick Rift through their, pockets peel off their clothes To wear or sell when you wash out the blood Run my little brother Run to the chicken farm Opportunity's calling You might even find a watch We're going down To the chicken farm Napalm rains no more But the war goes on Little brother died playing at the dump today He found a new toy and held it up proud Then it blew him to bits How many more children Will be killed or die at birth Deformed by Agent Orange In our food chain forever more We're going down To the chicken farm This time we'll buy our way out I've got a plan; you wait and see I smuggled you this map In the gash I sliced in my thigh I hope I'm there to join you, love We're blown to bits one by one in this camp We crawl shaking through the fields at gunpoint all day To defuse leftover landmines--by hand We shiver on the deck and stiffen for the worst If the pirates come around we might as well be dead We'll be thrown in the sea Or butchered if we're women All in the name of gold One foot in a land we can barely understand Can't speak the tongue of Yankee hospitality Our kids at school get beat up To the tune of "Boat people, go home" Sliced with a machete From the breast of our homeland Our new world tries to spit us out But it sure beats the chicken farm
Jock-O-Rama (Invasion of the Beef Patrol)
You really like gorillas? We've got just the pet for you It's the way you're forced to act To survive our schools Make your whole life revolve around sports Walk tough--don't act too smart Be a mean machine Then we'll let you get ahead Jock-O-Rama--Save my soul We're under the thumb of the Beef Patrol The future of America is in their hands Watch it roll over Niagara Falls Pep rally in the holy temple And you're forced to go Masturbate en masse With the favored religious cult Cheerleaders yell--Ra Ra Team From the locker room parades the prime beef When archaeologists dig this up They'll either laugh or cry Jock-O-Rama--On the brain Redneck-a-thon driving me insane The future of America is in their hands Watch it roll over Niagara Falls Unzip that old-time religion On the almighty football field Beerbellies of all ages Come to watch the gladiators bleed "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 Jock-O-Rama--that's the law Come lick the butts of the Beef Patrol If the future of America is handed to them Watch it roll over Niagara Falls
Goons of Hazzard
(words: Biafra; music: Biafra,Ray) 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 We are the Goons of Hazzard Glorified on your TV We run down bikes and hitch hikers And we know we'll get off scot-free We're the vigilante heroes of your tough-guy flicks Bashing punks & bums and fags With our baseball bats No deer to blow away So we go to Oroville and shoot a black kid down Or waste demonstrators in Greensboro instead We are the Goons of Hazzard Glorified on your TV We leave you in a pool of blood Cos we know we'll get off scot-free Let's get him 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 & Chambers of Commerce want us deputized The stoner gestapo keepin' your town clean Get a shave, kid We'll pay you as the strike-breaker Maybe you'll make Tac Squad for the L.A.P.D. We are the Goons of Hazzard Glorified on your TV We leave you in a pool of blood And we always get off scot-free
M.T.V.--Get Off the Air
(words: Biafra; music:Biafra, Ray) Fun Fun Fun in the fluffy chair Flame up the herb Woof down the beer (click!) 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 (B. Vocals:M.T.V.-GET OFF THE AIR!!!) 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 M.T.V. Get off the M.T.V. Get off the air Get off the air See the latest rejects from the muppet show Wag their tits and their dicks As they lip-synch on screen There's something I don't like About a band who always smiles Another tax write-off For some schmuck who doesn't care M.T.V. Get off the air And so it was Our beloved corporate gods Claimed they created rock video Allowing it to sink as low in one year As commercial TV has in 25 "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?!? M.T.V.--Get off the air! NOW!
At My Job
(words & music: East Bay Ray) If your machine might slip a gear Push this button to help it clear Your time card says your name's Joe But we'll call you 6-3-0 CHORUS I'm working at my job I'm so happy More boring by the day But they pay me All that time spent going to school Just to end up following--rules CHORUS Now it's time to take a break Don't stray too far or you'll be late Thank you for your service and a long career Glad you gave us your best years CHORUS
Stars and Stripes of Corruption
(words: Biafra; music: "Dead Kennedys") Finally got to Washington in the middle of the night I couldn't wait I headed straight for the Capitol Mall My heart began to pound Yahoo! It really exists The American International Pictures logo I looked up at the 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 Of the stars and stripes of corruption Makes me feel so ashamed To be an American When we're too stuck up to learn from our mistakes Trying to start another Viet Nam Like fiddling while Rome burns at home The Boss says, "You're laid off. Blame the Japanese" "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 rules. 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 The stars and stripes of corruption Let's bring it all down! Tell me who's the real patriots The Archie Bunker slobs waving flags? Or the people with the guts to work For some real change Rednecks and bombs don't make us strong We loot the world, yet we can't even feed ourselves Our real test of strength is caring Not the toys of war we sell the world 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 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 The stars and stripes of corruption Let's bring it all down! If we don't try If we just lie If we can't find A way to do it better than this Who will?