Looking for trouble
There's blood on his face
He just needs a drink
To keep him in his place
Living with doom
His day is consumed
Mind never dry
Soon he will die
Non-existant
Only on the network
Just one of many
Zombies of despair
Life is not easy
On N.B.C. . . .
Presidente Camouflage
Guatemala's got a brand new man
Jerry Falwell's gonna lend a hand
Financing his puppet regime
Make sure their morals are squeeky clean
Presidente Camouflage
Dead Indians piled like logs
Moral Majority picks up the bill
Beans and bullets, fart and kill
Teach the Indians to kill themselves
Trust us, don't trust yourselves
Put on a uniform, pick up a gun
Dismembering bodies, loads of fun
Presidente Camouflage
Dead Indians piled like logs
Jerry's plan is world domination
On your knees or in the grave
Puppet governments, manipulation
Jesus wouldn't want to if you're not a slave
Small Talk Death
The talk is so small
It bounces off the wall
Lies, lies, lies
Each one twice the size
A mouth spits out a word
It passes by unheard
We laugh at the hoke
We laugh until we choke
I breathe in the air
I speak but I'm not there
They speak and I'm in pain
They tell it over and over again
Strapped in a chair
Forced to listen there
I look for escape
From diatribic rape
No power, no thought
Dead words left to rot
No meaning to what they say
Forgotten forever what is said today
It's mindless discourse
No value no force
It's a waste of breath
Small talk death
Dead In a Pile of Chairs
Anwar Sadat
Where are you at
Where are you at
Mister Anwar Sadat
Blood on your uniform
Blood on the floor
Dead in a pile of chairs
Nobody seems to care
Blood on the desert
War's in the air
Bodies are swelling
More than a scare
History of wars
Religious disease
Statesmen in uniform
Wasting their time
One Way
The way they say
Worship the lord
Love thy neighbor
Who kill each other
The way they say
Leaflets of doomsday
Evolution Jesus Christ
The price of darkness
Which do you find?
Which do you believe?
When you find out
You may be deceased
Let us pray
Open your bible
Resurrect me
Have I been saved?
Jocko Macho (Quincy Punks)
The straw that breaks the camel's back
Takes the guy with long hair
Gives his skull a crack
Loud-mouthed heckler puts his gobs on the band
Complains to his friends, "It's not a free land"
Teenage babies watch TV
Ideas of punk from CHiPs and Quincy
Put on their uniforms, go off to war
They don't even know what they're fighting for
Call each other "poseur"
Do the macho posture
Fighting with each other
'Til nothing's left over
Bash somebody's head in
While you do your stage dive
You might get your picture
Taken by Ed Colver
If you're a cool teen
Gotta act tough and mean
Go to all the gigs, be part of the scene
Copy each other, don't think for yourself
You're the only one, there's no one else
Put down the hippies, blacks and jews
Act like jerks 'cuz it'll be in the news
Anarchy! Was it just a trend?
It sounded good, who put it to an end?
Now all you get when you go to a show
Is the same old shit wherever you go
A band gets together, has something to say
But there's no more places for bands to play
You've used your head now you're scene is dead
And you wonder why as you sit home and cry
It's the price you pay 'cuz you've did it in
Now go home and listen to Led Zeppelin