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                            [DK]  Dead Kennedys  [DK]
                       GIVE ME CONVENIENCE OR GIVE ME DEATH

                        Compliments of  Suicidal Amoeba

                      >>> A CULT Publication......1988 <<<
                        -cDc- CULT OF THE DEAD COW -cDc-
_______________________________________________________________________________


                               ---POLICE TRUCK---

(W-Biafra/M-Biafra,Ray)

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 rider, rider 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 doing something wicked?"
No Siree, Jack, We're Just givin' tickets

As we ride, ride how we ride (3)
let's ride, lowride


                         ---TOO DRUNK TO FUCK---

Went to a party
I danced all night
I drank 16 beers
And I started up a fight

But now I'm jaded
You're out of luck
I'm rolling down the stairs
Too drunk to fuck

Too drunk to fuck
Too drunk to fuck
Too drunk to fuck
I'm too drunk, too drunk, Too drunk to fuck

I like your stories
I love your gun
Shooting out truck tires
Sounds like loads and loads of fun

But in my room
Wish you were dead
You ball like the baby
In eraserhead

Too drunk to fuck
Too drunk to fuck
Too drunk to fuck
It's all I need right now
Too drunk to fuck

Too drunk to fuck
Too drunk to fuck
Too drunk to fuck
I'm sick soft gooey and cold
Too drunk to fuck

I'm about drop
My head's a mess
The only salvation is
I'll never see you again

You give me head
It makes it worse
Take out your fuckin' retainer
put it in your purse

I'm Too drunk to fuck
You're Too drunk to fuck
Too drunk to fuck
It's all I need right now Oh Baby
I'm melting like an ice cream bar
Oh Baby

And now I got diarrhea
Too drunk to fuck
Yeah, Yeah
Yeah, Yeah
Yeah, Yeah
Oooohhh..........


                      ---CALIFORNIA UBER ALLES---

(Biafra/John Greenway)

I am governor Jerry Brown
My aura smiles
And never frowns
Soon I will be president.....
Carter power will soon go away
I will be Fuhrer one day
I will command all of you
Your kids will meditate in school
California Uber Alles
Uber Alles California
Zen Fascists will control you
100% Natural
You will job for the master race
And always wear the happy face
Close your eyes, can't happen here
Big Bro' on white horse is near
The hippies won't come back you say
Mellow out or you will pay
California Uber Alles
Uber Alles California
Now it is 1984
Knock Knock at your front door
It's the suede/denim secret police
They have come for your uncool niece
Come quietly to the camp
You'd look nice as a drawstring lamp
Don't you worry, it's only a shower
For your clothes here's a pretty flower....
Die on organic poison gas
Serpent's egg's already hatched
You will crack, you little clown
When you mess with president brown
California Uber Alles
Uber Alles California


                         ---THE MAN WITH THE DOG---

(Biafra)
 
I am none
But I'm well known
For I am the man with the dogs
I stare at you shopping
Watch while you're walking
Two dogs run around your toes
You turn around
Two eyes break you down
Now, who does that guy think he's starin' at
Stop in your tracks
You're being laughed at
Your armored ego is nude
And I do and I do
Crack up 'cos I'm getting to you
I see you I see you
And you're pretty self-conscious too
Down to your church
I'm looking for victims
Spell of the man with the dogs
I'll haunt you
And follow you to work
That ghost is back again
Creep into you
I won't go away
You're taking yourself too seriously
I smile as you frown
And turn to walk away
Your habits for all to see
I see a shrew
I see you
And the rodent things you do
You see you I see you
And you're pretty self-conscious too
And I'm gonna crack your mask
Yeah and I'm gonna laugh
Open wide....
See you again
You'll see me tomorrow
Curse of the man with the dogs
You may not like me
You won't forget me
Not safe even in Walgreens
They've seen me ask your friends
"Oh I know him"
Seen but never heard
By your lot
A stare
Is worth a thousand biting phrases
See how stupid you are?
I dare you I dare you
To erase my lasser tattoo
You see you you see you
And you're pretty self-conscious too
And I'm gonna crack your mask
Yeah, and I'n gonna laugh
What's inside?
Is it pubic hair
Is it cobweb air
I bet you just don't care......


                                ---INSIGHT---

(Biafra)

Who's that kid in the back of the room
Who's that kid in the back of the room
He's setting all his papers on fire
He's setting all his papers on fire

Where did he get that crazy smile
Where did he get that crazy smile
We all think he's really weird
We all think he's really weird
 
We never talk to him
He never looks quite right
He laughs at us
We just beat him up
What he sees escapes our sight

We never see him with the girls
We never see him with the girls
He's talking to himself again
He's talking to himself again

Why doesn't he want tons of friends
Why doesn't he want tons of friends
Says he's bored when we hang around
Says he's bored when we hang around

We never talk to him
He never looks quite right
He laughs at us
We just beat him up
What he sees escapes our sight

We're all planning our careers
We're all planning our careers
We're all planning our careers
He says we're growing old.....


                           ---LIFE SENTENCE---

(Biafra)

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

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 human
But such good manners
Now you're an adult
You're Boring

It's your life sentence
It's your life sentence
It's your life sentence
It's your life sentence

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 & Froth, you're getting sick
Run too fast 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


                          -A CHILD AND HIS LAWNMOWER-
(Biafra)

Some clown in Sacrament was dragged into court
He shot his lawnmower
It disobeyed, it wouldn't start
Might makes right, it's the American way
They fined him $60 and sent him on his way
You know; some people don't take no shit
Maybe if they did they'd have half a brain left


                             -HOLIDAY IN CAMBODIA-
(w-Biafra/m-Biafra,Ray,Flouride,Slesinger)

So you been to school for a year or two
And you know you've seen it all
In daddy's car thinkin' you'll go far
Back east your type don't crawl
Play ethnicky jazz to parade your snazz
On your five grand stereo
Braggin that you know how the niggers feel cold
And the slums got so much soul
It's time to taste what you most fear
Right Guard will not help you here
Brace yourself, my dear

It's a holiday in Cambodia
It's tough, kid, but it's life
It's a holiday in Cambodia
Don't forget to pack a wife
 
You're a star-belly sneech you suck like a leech
You want everyone to act like you
Kiss ass while you bitch so you can get rich
But your boss gets richer off you
Well you'll work harder with a gun in your back
For a bowl or rice a day
Slave for soldiers til you starve
Then your head is skewered on a stake
Now you can go where people are one
Now you can go where they get things done
What you need, my son.....
 
Is a holiday in Cambodia
Where people dress in black
A holiday in Cambodia
Where you'll kiss ass or crack
(Chant) Pol pot/pol pot/pol pot/pol etc.

And It's a holiday in Cambodia
Where you'll do what you're told
A holiday in Cambodia
Where the slums got so much soul


                         -NIGHT OF THE LIVING REDNECKS-

Words & Music improvised by Biafra/Flouride/Slesinger while Ray was changing guitar strings.  Recorded live by persons unknown at the earth tavern, Portland Oregon on November 19, 1979.


                              -I FOUGHT THE LAW-
(Sonny Curtis/New Lyrics Biafra)
(Published by Acuff-Rose Opryland Music Inc.)

Drinkin' beer in the hot sun
I fought the law and I won
I needed sex and I got mine
I fought the law and I won

The law don't mean shit if you've got the right friends
That's how this country's run
Twinkies are the best friend I've every had
I fought the law
And I won

I blew George and Harvey's brains out with my six-gun
I fought the law and I won
Gonna write my book and make a million
I fought the law and I won

I'm the new folk hero of the Ku Klux Klan
My cop friends think that's fine
You can get away with murder if you've got a badge
I fought the law
And I won
I am the law
So I won


                           -SATURDAY NIGHT HOLOCAUST-
(Words: Biafra; Music: Dead Kennedys)

There's a prefab building and a funny smell
Around the hill outside of town
Every now and then we wonder
But we shrug out shoulders
And get back to work

There's a railroad there and trains go by
And there's people locked in cattle cars
And have you noticed the french fries at the A & W
Taste a little strange?. . .

I drive down to the disco
Pompadour and pink lame
I bow and blow the doorman
He parts the chain, says "Join the game"

A quick line in the girls' room
To the bar for the electrodes
A coin in the right slits
Tape my temple, watch me go!

Blacks are banned, 'cept on the records
O' life's a cabaret
Like Berlin, 1930
All I crave is my escape

Now I want your perfect barbie-doll lips
And I want your perfect barbie-doll eyes
Slip my fingers down your barbie-doll dress
Up and down your spandex ass

If I lit a match to you
You'd melt before my eyes
C'mere my pretty glow-worm
You look so fine to dance with me

The fly-eye lights are throbbin'
I'm burnin' up the floor
Whirling twirling
Close my eyes
No faces judging me

A Hitler youth in jogging suit
Smiling face banded 'round his arm
Says, 'Line up, you've got work to do'
We need dog food for the poor

A scream bleats out, we're herded into lines
Customized vans wait outside
I'm getting scared of my new home
To Auschwitz Condominiums we go

Oh No

Now I want your perfect barbie-doll lips
And I want your perfect barbie-doll eyes
Let my fingers down you dress
One more time....


                                -PULL MY STRINGS-
(Bra/Slesinger)

I'm tired of self respect
I can't afford a car
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 businessman
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.....

Is my cock big enough
Is my brain small enough
For you to make me a star

Give me a toot
And 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 fool
And shoot some dope

Is my cock big enough
Is my brain small enough
For you to make me a star

Repeat....  Etc...


                               -SHORT SONGS-
(6025)

I like short songs
(reapeat 13 times)


                               -STRAIGHT A'S-
(Words: Biafra; Music: 6025)

Sixteen, on the honor roll
I wish that I was Dead
Parents hate me, I got zits
And bruises 'round my head

Pressure's on to get good grades
So I can be like them
Do my homework all the time
I can't go out just then

People they ain't friends at all
They tease me and suck me dry
Yell at me when I fuck up
And party while I cry
I look so big on paper
I feel so fucking small
Wanna die and you don't care
Just stride on down the hall

Suicide Suicide
Read the paper, wonder why
Turn the light out, then you cry
It's your fault, you made me die

Touch me won't you touch me now
So frozen I can't love
When I was born my mama cried
And picked me up with gloves

Girls, they kick me in the eye
Want answers to the tests
When they get them they drive off
And leave me home to rest

Hold my head
Make me warm
Tell me I am loved
Give me hope
Let me cry
Make me feel
Give me touch

The window's broken bleeding screaming
Lying in the hall
I'm gone no one remembers me
A picture on the wall
"He was such a bright boy
The future in his hands..."
Or a spineless human pinball
Shot around by your demands

Suicide Suicide
Goin' to sleep and when I die
You'll look up and realize
Then look down and wipe your eyes
And go back to your stupid lives
Aw Shit


                -KINKY SEX MAKE THE WORLD GO 'ROUND-
(Words:Biafra;
Music:Biafra/Flouride/Ray/Peligro)

Greetings...This is the secretary of war at the state department of the United
States....We have a problem, the companies want something done about this
sluggish world economic situation....Profits have been running a little thin
lately and we need to stimulate some growth....Now we know there's an
alarmingly high number of young people roaming around in your country with
nothing to do but stir up trouble for the police and damage private property.
It doesn't look like they'll ever get a job....It's about time we did something
constructive with these people....We've got thousands of 'em here too.  They're
crawling all over....The companies think it's time we all sit down, have a
serious get-together--START ANOTHER WAR......The president? He loves the idea!
 All those missiles streaming overhead to and fro....Napalm....People running
down the road, skin on fire....The Soviets seem up for it....The Kremlin's been
itching for the real thing for years.  Hell, Afghanistan's no fun....So whadya
say?.....We don't even have to win this war, we just want to cut down on some
of this excess population.....Now look.  Just start up a draft: draft as many
of those people as you can.  We'll call up every last youngster we can get our
hands on, hand 'em some speed, give 'em an hour or two to learn how to use an
automatic rifle and send 'em on their way.....Libya???  El Salvador?  How 'bout
northern Ireland?  Or a "moderately repressive regime"  in South America?....
We'll just cook up a good Soviet threat story in the Middle East--We need that
oil.... We had Libya all ready to go and Colonel Kjadafy's hit squad didn't
even show up, I tell ya....That man is UNRELIABLE.  The Kremlin had their
fingers on the button just like we did for that one...Now just think for a
minute--We can make this war so big--so big....The more people we kill in this
war, the more the economy will prosper...We can get rid of practically
everybody on your dole queues if we plan this right.  Take every loafer on
welfare right off our computer rolls....Now don't worry about those
demonstrations--just PUMP UP YOUR DRUG SUPPLY.  So many people have hooked
themselves on heroin and amphetamines since we took over, it's just like
Vietnam.  We had everybody so busy with LSD they never got too strong, kept
the war functioning just fine.  It's easy, we've got our college kids so
interested in beer they don't even care if we start manufacturing germ bombs
again.  Put a nuclear stockpile in their back yard, they would't even know what
it looked like.....So how 'bout it?  Look--WAR IS MONEY.  The arms
manufacturers tell me unless we get our bomb factories up to full production
the whole economy is going to collapse....The Soviets are in the same boat.  We
all agree the time has come for the BIG ONE, so whadya say?!?....That's
excellent.  We knew you'd agree....The companies will be very pleased.


                                  -THE PREY-

You're from out of town
I can tell that by your shoes
Flew in for the convention
Getting tipsy in a bar

You're leavin' pretty late
Gotta get up in the morning
Thinking she's just too expensive
And you know you're...
Probably....
Right!

There's no one on the streets
And you can't find your hotel
You walk a little faster
--Someone's following you

The wallet-size bulge
In your double-knit butt
Has money for me
And maybe credit cards

You dart around the next corner
You can't look around
Quick now, fish for the keys
For the door
You don't even know where you are

You walk a little faster
I walk a little faster
Sensing that I sense you
Now there's no escape
 
I can almost taste your dandruff
As I reach for your face
--And I strike


                           -BUZZBOMB FROM PASADENA
(Words: Biafra; Music:  Ray & Biafra)

Buzzbomb Buzzbomb macho-mobile
The road's my slave, that's how I feel
I cruise alone, I cruise real far
Shoo young punk! I love my car

Cross Nevada at 110
Highway 50 and there's nobody there
Sign says, "Next sign 30 miles!"

My pension comes--
Each penny saved buys more escape from home
I'd rather carouse around all day
Than move into a home

Plow through rest area san-o-lets
Splat goes the lonely salesman
Still wanking in the men's room...

Buzzbomb Buzzbomb tape up loud
Lawrence Welk cranked up to 10
Faster Faster in my car

Buzzbomb is my pride and joy
King of the trailer court
Waiting for a nice young man
Who'll love me for my car

Who tells me why I'm cool
Tell me just what I like
When I pretend he's here

Shred through palm springs across the golf course
Cops 'round here scratching their heads
Flashing sirens, state patrol.....Uh Oh

They're scuffing up the side of my car
They're shooting out my tires
This ain't no way to go to heaven
Buzzbomb cornered at the 7-11

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

This shit is copyrighted 1979,1980,1981,1982,1986,1987 by Decay Music (BMI)

===============================================================================
 (c)1988  cDc communications  by Suicidal Amoeba                      1/0/88-34
 All Rights Worth Shit

