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

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

Straightline Thinking

We are all controlled by reinforcement of rules
Passed by those who are merely the tools of a system
Where achievement is based on deceit of the masses
By someone in whom they believe

We are all controlled by the straight-line thinking of straight-line thinkers
Who gave up drinking and smoking as sins….
To avoid being lower
Than their aspirations would allow them to go

We are all controlled by fear of the unknown
Because we’re not told all that there is to know
About things we consider as normal existence
So we accept exploitation and show no resistance

We are all controlled in our thoughts and actions
By things we were told by past generations
Of parents who used to rebel just the same as we do now so who gets the blame?

We are the rebels like the rebels before us
Pre-destined to scream in an out of tune chorus
Of voices repeating the words of the past
That diffuse in the process of ageing too fast

Deep in the soul if there is one
It tells you to do as you feel
Not as someone outside you dictates through their own misguided conception
Of what part you must play
In this game of deception

Lyrics: Dick Lucas
Music: Subhumans
From the album;
Worlds Apart

Fade Away

We live we die
And in between
We sit and wonder why
Why must we someday die?

Tried and tested
We live our lives
Like our dear parents did
Tied down and restricted

Of gods and guns
Do we need to die?
For Christ’s sake or for anyone?
They call it religion
And so we pray
For god to save us
From our evil ways
They call it self-decay

We live we die
In fear of gods and guns
And never knowing why
Why must we someday die?

So live your life
In fear of no one
We must have our say
Before we fade away

Lyrics: Dick Lucas
Music: Subhumans (UK)
From the album; Worlds Apart

Blank Generation

They say we been going down and going down
Been traveling on the road to nowhere
Going down, round and round
Trying to get to the place where we started

When I was just a boy at four years old thought the world was joy
As a kid I’d play, just create the day as I saw it my way

But time blows by
And strips us to the bone poisoned wind of woe
Teach us that we’re alone in this world
We learned to see all the corruption and greed
All its hate, all its pain, so a toast to the end of our innocence
A toast to our blank generation

They say we been going down, been going down
Been traveling on the road to nowhere
Going down, round and round
Trying to get to the place where we started

When I was seventeen realizing the world wasn’t what she seemed
Underneath the night SanFrancisco sky
I would see, too clearly

But time blows by
And strips us to the bone poisoned wind of woe
Teach us that we’re alone in this world
We learned to take all the corruption and greed
All its hate, all its pain, so a toast to the end of our innocence
A toast to our blank generation

So here’s to collagen lips and saline tits
To growth hormones and antibiotics
To the Hollywood world we made out of Barbie-doll hearts
After we melted them down so we could make our new start
Here’s to a generation scared and always wondering why
Instead of playing doctor,we play shoot each other and die
Instead of ring around the
Rosie, we play hide from Mommy
‘Cause Mommy’s been drinking again and we don’t want to get beat
Even with all our tattoos, and all our cheap thrills there’s still a hole inside of us that may not ever get filled
So we give back a little bit of what the world’s given us
Giving back a bit of never giving a fuck

Here’s to the justice never dealt, to innocent, proven guilty
Here’s to bad cops turning cheeks when real cops are on the street
Here’s to the rat-tat-n-tat and your life is shattered
Here’s to “Gimme me your cash or your brains is gettin’ splattered”
Here’s to mad cow disease and all that yummy MSG
Here’s to Mickey d’s serving all those mutant chick-a-dees

This is a toast to celebrate the end of our innocence
This is a toast to celebrate how…
We’ve become desensitized
If life is to grow
Some life must die

We learned to take all the corruption and greed
All its hate, all its pain, so a toast to the end of our innocence
our generation

We now embrace all the corruption and greed, all its hate, all its pain, so
A toast to the end of our innocence
Our blank generation
Our blank generation

Lyrics: Rob Flynn
Music: Machine Head

Straightline Thinking

We are all controlled by reinforcement of rules
Passed by those who are merely the tools of a system
Where achievement is based on deceit of the masses
By someone in whom they believe

We are all controlled by the straight-line thinking of straight-line thinkers
Who gave up drinking and smoking as sins….
To avoid being lower
Than their aspirations would allow them to go

We are all controlled by fear of the unknown
Because we’re not told all that there is to know
About things we consider as normal existence
So we accept exploitation and show no resistance

We are all controlled in our thoughts and actions
By things we were told by past generations
Of parents who used to rebel just the same as we do now so who gets the blame?

We are the rebels like the rebels before us
Pre-destined to scream in an out of tune chorus
Of voices repeating the words of the past
That diffuse in the process of ageing too fast

Deep in the soul if there is one
It tells you to do as you feel
Not as someone outside you dictates through their own misguided conception
Of what part you must play
In this game of deception

Lyrics: Dick Lucas
Music: Subhumans
From the album;
Worlds Apart

Blank Generation

They say we been going down and going down
Been traveling on the road to nowhere
Going down, round and round
Trying to get to the place where we started

When I was just a boy at four years old thought the world was joy
As a kid I’d play, just create the day as I saw it my way

But time blows by
And strips us to the bone poisoned wind of woe
Teach us that we’re alone in this world
We learned to see all the corruption and greed
All its hate, all its pain, so a toast to the end of our innocence
A toast to our blank generation

They say we been going down, been going down
Been traveling on the road to nowhere
Going down, round and round
Trying to get to the place where we started

When I was seventeen realizing the world wasn’t what she seemed
Underneath the night SanFrancisco sky
I would see, too clearly

But time blows by
And strips us to the bone poisoned wind of woe
Teach us that we’re alone in this world
We learned to take all the corruption and greed
All its hate, all its pain, so a toast to the end of our innocence
A toast to our blank generation

So here’s to collagen lips and saline tits
To growth hormones and antibiotics
To the Hollywood world we made out of Barbie-doll hearts
After we melted them down so we could make our new start
Here’s to a generation scared and always wondering why
Instead of playing doctor,we play shoot each other and die
Instead of ring around the
Rosie, we play hide from Mommy
‘Cause Mommy’s been drinking again and we don’t want to get beat
Even with all our tattoos, and all our cheap thrills there’s still a hole inside of us that may not ever get filled
So we give back a little bit of what the world’s given us
Giving back a bit of never giving a fuck

Here’s to the justice never dealt, to innocent, proven guilty
Here’s to bad cops turning cheeks when real cops are on the street
Here’s to the rat-tat-n-tat and your life is shattered
Here’s to “Gimme me your cash or your brains is gettin’ splattered”
Here’s to mad cow disease and all that yummy MSG
Here’s to Mickey d’s serving all those mutant chick-a-dees

This is a toast to celebrate the end of our innocence
This is a toast to celebrate how…
We’ve become desensitized
If life is to grow
Some life must die

We learned to take all the corruption and greed
All its hate, all its pain, so a toast to the end of our innocence
our generation

We now embrace all the corruption and greed, all its hate, all its pain, so
A toast to the end of our innocence
Our blank generation
Our blank generation

Lyrics: Rob Flynn
Music: Machine Head

Fade Away

We live we die
And in between
We sit and wonder why
Why must we someday die?

Tried and tested
We live our lives
Like our dear parents did
Tied down and restricted

Of gods and guns
Do we need to die?
For Christ’s sake or for anyone?
They call it religion
And so we pray
For god to save us
From our evil ways
They call it self-decay

We live we die
In fear of gods and guns
And never knowing why
Why must we someday die?

So live your life
In fear of no one
We must have our say
Before we fade away

Lyrics: Dick Lucas
Music: Subhumans (UK)
From the album; Worlds Apart

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