Dead Kennedys
"Terminal Preppie"
I go to
college
That makes me so cool
I live in a dorm
And show off by the pool
I join the
right clubs
Just to build an impression
I block out thinking
It won’t get me ahead
My ambition
in life
Is to look good on paper
All I want is a slot
In some big corporation
John Belushi’s
my hero
I lampoon and I ape him
My news of the world
Comes from Sports Illustrated
I’m
proud of my trophies
Like my empty beer cans
Stacked in rows up the wall
To impress all my friends
No, I’m
not here to learn
I just want to get drunk
And major in business
And be taught how to fuck
Win! Win!
I always play to win
Wanna fit in like a cog
In the faceless machine
Chorus
I’m a terminal terminal terminal preppie
terminal terminal terminal preppie
terminal terminal terminal terminal
terminal terminal terminal terminal
I want a wife
with tits
Who just smiles all the time
In my centerfold world
Filled with Springsteen and wine
Some day I’ll
have power
Some day I’ll have boats
A tract in some suburb
With Thanksgivings to host
Chorus
I’m a terminal terminal terminal preppie
terminal terminal terminal preppie
terminal terminal terminal preppie
Dead Kennedys
"Ill in the Head"
In a
desperate mind
Little gardens grow
They grow very wide
They grow very tall
Why am I
alive
Urban Wonderland
By the fence I stand
In and out of hand
There are
many paths
Dripping dark so dense
Do not enter here
Enter over there
People
closing in
Barking at my mind
Shoving me to wine
I want all alone
I want my own
home
I want my own girl
Help me hate the world
Own and love my life
Dead Kennedys
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 air
M.T.V. 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?!?
NOW
Dead Kennedys
Have you heard about the latest craze
That’s sweepin’ across the nation
All the punks from coast to coast
Have discovered an old invention:
“Your hair’s too long
Man, you’re a queer
You’re too new wave
Put down that beer…”
Do the Slag—Look at ’em run
Do the Slag—Hey you scum
Do the Slag—Ain’t it fun
Do the Slag—Let’s all be dumb
Badmouth
people we don’t know
Make sure it’s behind their backs
Don’t let new people in our scene
It’s more fun than having a friend
We’ll
slag everyone each and every night
So we can pretend that we’re all right
Make those pricks feel just so small
We’ll show the world that we’re three feet tall
Slander their
integrity
Doubt their humanity
Talk about their haircuts
Are their politics correct?
Do the Slag!
Don’t
let those sissies on the floor
They’re unhip, man, they bought the wrong clothes
Let’s all do the latest craze
’Cause having allies never pays
We’ll
slag everyone each and every night
So we can pretend that we’re all right
Make those pricks feel just so small
We’ll show the world that we’re three feet tall
Dead Kennedys
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…
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