"Life Sentence"

You used to be a partner in crime
Now you say you ain't got 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

[Chorus]
It's a Life Sentence
It's a Life Sentence
It's a Life Sentence
It's a 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

[Chorus]

The walls are closing in
You stayed too long in school
I'd rather stay a child
And keep my self-respect
If 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 fenced in a yard
Don't see much, you can't go far
Pace and froth, you're getting sick
Run too fast and 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

"M.T.V.-Get Off The Air"

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

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

"Macho Insecurity"

Name one thing on earth lower than a tough guy
Who talks with his fists instead of using his head
Who beats the shit out of anything it can't understand
Behind the muscle mask is a scared little boy

called Macho insecurity
Macho insecurity
Macho insecurity
'Cause you can't stand
yourself

Got a bitch with me?
Why won't you say it to my face?
It's so easy to mouth off to others
But where's your proof?
Maybe we can talk if you'd just drop your act
Nothing's ever solved by making childish threats
That's Macho Insecurity
[chorus]

Why do you want people to be so afraid of you?
Why are you so scared of anything that's different?
No one's ever there when you need friends
You wonder why:
It's 'cause you take yourself so seriously
But being such a clown
Gives the rest of us the right to laugh
At your Macho Insecurity
'Cause you can't stand yourself

"Moon Over Marin"

The crowded future stings my eyes
I still find time to exercise
In uniform with two white stripes

Unlock my section of the sand
It's fenced off to the water's edge
I clamp a gasmask on my head

[Chorus]
On my beach at night
Bathe in my moonlight

Another tanker's hit the rocks
Abandoned to spill out its guts
The sand is laced with sticky glops

O' Shimmering moonlight sheen upon
The waves and water clogged with oil
White gases steam up from the soil

[Chorus]

I squash dead fish between my toes
Try not to step on any bones
I turn around and I go home

I slip back through my basement door
Switch off all that I own below
Dive in my scalding wooden tub

My own beach at night
Electric Moonlight

There will always be a moon
Over Marin

"Moral Majority"

You call yourself the Moral Majority
We call ourselves the people in the real world
Trying to rub us out, but we're going to survive
God must be dead if you're alive

You say, 'God loves you. Come and buy the Good News'
Then you buy the president and swimming pools
If Jesus don't save 'til we're lining your pockets
God must be dead if you're alive

Circus-tent con-men and Southern belle bunnies
Milk your emotions then they steal your money
It's the new dark ages with the fascists toting bibles
Cheap nostalgia for the Salem Witch Trials

Stodgy ayatollahs in their dobble-knit ties
Burn lots of books so they can feed you their lies
Masturbating with a flag and a bible
God must be dead if you're alive

Blow it out your ass, Jerry Falwell
Blow it out your ass, Jesse Helms
Blow it out your ass, Ronald Reagan
What's wrong with a mind of my own?

You don't want abortions, you want battered children
You want to ban the pill as if that solves the problem
Now you wanna force us to pray in school
God must be dead if you're such a fool

You're planning for a war with or without Iran
Building a police state with the Ku Klux Klan
Pissed at your neighbour? Don't bother to nag
Pick up the phone and turn in a fag

Blow it out your ass, Terry Dolan
Blow it out your ass, Phyllis Schlafly
Ram it up your cunt, Anita
Cos God must be dead
If you're alive
God must be dead
If you're alive

"Nazi Punks Fuck Off"

Punk ain't no religious cult
Punk means thinking for yourself
You ain't hardcore cos you spike your hair
When a jock still lives inside your head

Nazi punks
Nazi punks
Nazi punks-Fuck Off!

Nazi punks
Nazi punks
Nazi punks-Fuck Off!

If you've come to fight, get outa here
You ain't no better than the bouncers
We ain't trying to be police
When you ape the cops it ain't anarchy

[Repeat chorus]

Ten guys jump one, what a man
You fight each other, the police state wins
Stab your backs when you trash our halls
Trash a bank if you've got real balls

You still think swastikas look cool
The real nazis run your schools
They're coaches, businessmen and cops
In a real fourth reich you'll be the first to go

[Repeat chorus]

You'll be the first to go
You'll be the first to go
You'll be the first to go
Unless you think

"Night Of The Living Rednecks"

Ray's guitar broke. No, we won't play Rawhide, won't play anything.
We'll play the theme from the Dinah Shore show.
Who wants to be Dinah Shore? Who's alter-ego is Dinah Shore?
Oh, his fists didn't go up so quickly this time. Yawn...yawn..yawn.
Put those headphones on, it's be-bop time.

I want to tell you a story about the last time I was in Portland.
The night before we played at the Long Goodbye.
I was walking on the street about 10:30 at night.
A lot of people go to bed around here at 10:30 at night.
And well, I was walking along when suddenly these jocks in this
bright blue pickup drove up. It had KC lights, tractor tires,
everything but the CB. It was a life-size Hot Wheels car for some dumb rich kid,
right. Well, they drove up to me
and they yelled what dumb rich kids usually yell, "Hey, faggot,"
and showered me with some water.
So, I stood there thinking, what a bunch of fuckheads and picked up a rock.
Now, I waited, walked down about a block to
where the Kentucky Fried Chicken is, on Burnside,
and sure enough they drove around again.
They said, "Hey, faggot, where's the nearest McDonald's?" I said,
"I don't know" and they squirted me again.
So I threw the rock and put a nice-size dent in their giant Hot Wheels car.
They screached to a halt in the parking lot of some department store,
who's name I don't remember, it's up the street from Fred Meyer,
and they got out their clubs and they ran after me, yelling,
"We're gonna kill you, you god damn faggot, we're gonna kill you,
you motherfucker."
So I got in a phonebooth by the Kentucky Fried Chicken on Burnside,
held my legs straight out like this so they couldn't open the door
to the phonebooth. So they began charging the phonebooth,
beating on it with their club, yelling,
"We're gonna kill you, you motherfucker, we're gonna kill you,
you god damn faggot." I just looked at them.
So, there was a crowd gathering by this time
and these kids were standing nearby and they said,
"Oh, look at him, he's insane." I thought, ah-hah, here's my way out.
I yelled at them, "Take me to a mental hospital right away.
I wanna be be put away.
Please put me away, c'mon, call the cops and put me away.
Please put me away now."
They said, "Alright, faggot, we're calling the police." So they called the police.
The cop comes out and I go, ah, my savior, I'm away from these jocks.
He opens up the door, "Get out of there, you,"
throws me up against the car, frisks me, shoves me in the back.
Then he goes over to the jocks, "Now what happened here?
It looks like we're going have to take him to jail
but we got to have the full story first"
So the jocks, who had an ace in the hole, ace in the hole
Take down on the bass, a little bit down on the bass. Yeah,
ace in the hole, and they go, "Well, goddammit,
the motherfucker put a dent in my truck, a $5000 truck, right,
so I got my club, I went out and I wanted to kill him.
I want to kill him. Let me kill him, goddammit.
Let me kill him."
So the cop made them go home, and he drove me home,
and he confiscated their club and my rock as further evidence.
And I thought, so this is Oregon, huh? Tolerent Oregon?

Ray, are you done with your guitar yet? He isn't done yet.
So what else do you want to hear, I'm out of stories.
That's a true story, too. Just ask Bruce Loose.

"One-Way Ticket To Pluto"

Get ready for the Blast Off!
And don't forget the Hype!
We're going into space.

Distinguished scientists
A pesky senator
And monkey turds leaking from the lab
All brought to us play-by-play by Howard Cosell

You're going where no man has gone before
Because we owe you some favors
And besides you're bright
A little too bright

Step one:
Senator, your vomit,
It's time to analyze it
For the folks back home

Open the hatch, launch the war satellite
That the commies aren't supposed to know about
Our real challenge is to keep it a secret
From the press back home

You're going where no man has gone before
Don't ask us where that is-we have no idea

You're chosen for this great mission
Because you're hearty and strong
And make a lot of fuss
Especially around us
We like you better when you're far away

Have you noticed?
You're gong the wrong direction
We have,
But that's your problem
We planned it that way
We had to dispose of all of you so
We can spoil the final frontier
How dare you question our Star Wars plans
For the farce that they are?

You're going where no man has gone before
For rocking the boat
In our temple of doom

You're on a one-way ticket to Pluto
We wash our hands
Of you and your lost Ark
Don't forget to write: NO NO NO NO NO
NO NO NO NO NO
NO NO NO NO NO
NO

"Police Truck"

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 no 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 got a 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 might 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
Let's ride, lowride

"Pull My Strings"

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 business man
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, drool
My Payola!
Drool, 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

[Chorus]
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?
[Repeat chorus, etc. etc.]