That’s Progress

Gimme a M (M),
gimme an A (A),
gimme an U (U),
gimme a L (L)
Gimme your money! (Sure!)
What’s that spell? (Maul!)
What’s that spell? (Shopping maul!)

‘scuse me, pardon my greed,you’re evicted, time to leave.
Don’t matter if your family’s lived here 30 years.
We’re tripling the rent.
Time’s up, the sheriff’s here.
Too bad for you if you freeze out in the street.

The croissant and cookie palace downstairs will symbolize
The old neighborhood whose soul has slowly died,
Been gentrified.
That’s progress!
Doesn’t progress make you feel good inside?

Cameras catch you running red lights
schoolrooms with no windows
Computer picks your career at age 15.
Universal price code I.D.’s
With the stripe the laser reads
and records where you’ve been,when you’re sick and what you eat.
For every spy in government
There’s 50 private eyes,
Who round up dirt on you to keep on file
Then sell the file.

That’s progress!
Doesn’t progress make you feel good inside?
That’s progress!
That’s progress!
Progress don’t make me feel so good inside.

You can’t live here, we won’t hire you,we know all the nasty things you do.
Bought a dossier on your whole life
Clear back to the pranks you did in school at age 5.

There’s millions on file
At the touch of a button.
Your boss or your landlord
Will love our choice cuts of gossip
if it’s lies, what can you do?
‘cos it costs too much to sue
The last person who’ll ever see your file is you.

Had enough, I moved back home
To the mountains where I belong
But ski resorts have tamed the wild west.
The hills we used to roam
Now they’re privately owned and scarred with cheezy suburbs and cement.
The ‘tracts for sale’ sign promises ‘deer in your back yard
‘if the deer somehow get past the fences and guards
And the industrial ‘park’.
Oh no! Not again!
All this progress makes me feel ill inside!
That’s progress!
That’s progress!

Looks like I’ll have to move to yellowknife.
Progress
Your idea of progress wrecks too many lives.

Lyrics: Jello Biafra
Music: DOA
From the Movie Soundtrack Terminal City Ricochet

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A Growing Boy Needs His Lunch

In lonely gas stations with mini-marts
You’ll find rows of them for sale
Liquor-filled statues of Elvis Presley
Screw his head-off and…
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 on 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 Spreadeagled to a bed
The migraine gets worse
When you 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

Lyrics: Jello Biafra
Music: Dead Kennedys
From the album; Frankenchrist

Attack Of The Peacekeepers (The NATO circus is here to protect you)

Army ads looked cool-I signed right up
Besides, it was the only way could find a job
“Great place to start” and see the world
Womanize at discos
And fake going nuts
To scam infirmary drugs

So send in the clowns
The NATO circus is here to protect you
Your choice must be ours
Yankee corruption
Or the big bad Soviet threat

Don’t you feel secure
Sending our Top Guns guard your sky
Flying their fighter planes upside down
Stoned out of their minds

For a real hot time
How ’bout an air show crash?
Or a G.I. riding a stolen tank
Through downtown Mannheim
And off the riverbank
Where he drowns

Fall in with the clowns
Remember-
NATO is here to protect you
With nuclear bombs
That come to visit
And decided to stay

[Chorus:]
Attack!
Attack!
Of the peacekeepers
Attack!

The charge of the joke brigade
In charge
We can blow up the world
More times than you

We’ll show ’em
We’ll show ’em
With radioactive subs

We’ll show ’em
We’ll show ’em
With missiles in your back yard

Guarded
By soldiers
On acid during night watch
And generals who care only
For fat pensions and bribes

If that don’t scare the commies nothing will
Cept maybe our Bradley tanks tripping over themselves
Both powers have one goal in common
to keep Germany divided
Never strong enough to start another world war

Occupied by the clowns
Is it really you NATO is here to protect?
With Berlin type walls
When they came to visit
We all decided they stay

[Chorus]

Lyrics; Jello Biafra
Music: DOA
From the Album: The Last Scream Of The Missing Neighbors

A Growing Boy Needs His Lunch

In lonely gas stations with mini-marts
You’ll find rows of them for sale
Liquor-filled statues of Elvis Presley
Screw his head-off and…
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 on 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 Spreadeagled to a bed
The migraine gets worse
When you 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

Lyrics: Jello Biafra
Music: Dead Kennedys
From the album; Frankenchrist

That’s Progress

Gimme a M (M),
gimme an A (A),
gimme an U (U),
gimme a L (L)
Gimme your money! (Sure!)
What’s that spell? (Maul!)
What’s that spell? (Shopping maul!)

‘scuse me, pardon my greed,you’re evicted, time to leave.
Don’t matter if your family’s lived here 30 years.
We’re tripling the rent.
Time’s up, the sheriff’s here.
Too bad for you if you freeze out in the street.

The croissant and cookie palace downstairs will symbolize
The old neighborhood whose soul has slowly died,
Been gentrified.
That’s progress!
Doesn’t progress make you feel good inside?

Cameras catch you running red lights
schoolrooms with no windows
Computer picks your career at age 15.
Universal price code I.D.’s
With the stripe the laser reads
and records where you’ve been,when you’re sick and what you eat.
For every spy in government
There’s 50 private eyes,
Who round up dirt on you to keep on file
Then sell the file.

That’s progress!
Doesn’t progress make you feel good inside?
That’s progress!
That’s progress!
Progress don’t make me feel so good inside.

You can’t live here, we won’t hire you,we know all the nasty things you do.
Bought a dossier on your whole life
Clear back to the pranks you did in school at age 5.

There’s millions on file
At the touch of a button.
Your boss or your landlord
Will love our choice cuts of gossip
if it’s lies, what can you do?
‘cos it costs too much to sue 
The last person who’ll ever see your file is you.

Had enough, I moved back home
To the mountains where I belong 
But ski resorts have tamed the wild west.
The hills we used to roam
Now they’re privately owned and scarred with cheezy suburbs and cement.
The ‘tracts for sale’ sign promises ‘deer in your back yard
‘if the deer somehow get past the fences and guards
And the industrial ‘park’.
Oh no! Not again!
All this progress makes me feel ill inside!
That’s progress!
That’s progress!

Looks like I’ll have to move to yellowknife.
Progress
Your idea of progress wrecks too many lives.

Lyrics: Jello Biafra
Music: DOA
From the Movie Soundtrack Terminal City Ricochet

Lie Detector

 
We have reviewed your yellow form
Congratulations! we find you qualified
You have just the right capacity
For putting up with our nonsense
There’s just one thing you’ve got to prove
We know how you must be dishonest and lazy
If you’re so desperate
You actually want to work at this place

[Chorus:]You must be guilty (lie detector)Guilty
’til you’re proven innocent
These days

Blood pressure clamps around your arms
Now don’t get nervous when we yell in your face
We know you steal-
Just who do you screw?
With what?
With who?
Aren’t you a Christian?
The polygraph-don’t make it move
One little twitch, the anvil drops on you
Don’t matter if you told the truth

[Chorus]Guilty-’til proven innocent

Guilty-It says so on your face
Guilty-When you try to find a place to live or a job that pays
Guilty-When you file a complaint against the cop that kicked your face last night
Guilty-It says so on page 3
Guilty-Who’d think a guy like me would plant drugs in your car
Break in your house while you’re asleep
Open your mouth, bet your ass you’re watched
And it’s your word against ours…

Yeah, just because we’re hiring you
That don’t mean we trust you at all
You’ll have to take a test like this
Once or twice EVERY week
We know machines, they make mistakes
Yeah, it’s your word against our dead black box
The machine is always right
Cause we know how it makes you feel so small
Because you’re guilty
‘Til you’re proven innocent these days
No one’s innocent these days

Lyrics: Jello Biafra