1. |
North American Feed
04:11
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North American Feed
It's blinding
Like an invasion
We think this way
We're told to think this way
You fly me
I'm Mandy
Pick up the phone, reach out and touch someone
Chorus
There's everything that you need
Whatever's there it's gonna make me bleed...
North American...feed
Turn on the radio
Turn on the set
Check out the lives of the rich and famous 'cos they’re the jetset
Here’s your Big Mac
Without any bones
Why don't you just piss off
And leave us alone?
Chorus
There's everything that you need...etc
They say that in war
The first casualty's truth
This must be war
With dish aerials on the roof
The rest of the world maybe doesn't exist
Vanished from the planet
And lost inside the mist
Chorus
There's everything that you need...etc
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2. |
Mean Old Goat
04:36
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Mean Old Goat
How’d you like to marry a rusty nail?
How’d you like to spend 40 years in jail?
How’d you like to marry a mean old goat?
A geezer who’ll kiss you with his hands round your throat?
Businessmen are from Mars, the rest of us from Venus
He’s the wealthiest kiwi, and the meanest
He’s got dirt on his hands and beer on his breath
The love of money is the kiss of death
Chorus: He can’t wait to get his hands round your throat
He’s a mean old grasping old mean old goat
He smiles as if it’s hurting him inside
He’s got everything to lose, and everything to hide
He’ll promise you the earth, then lock you in his dungeon
And scarper double quick to his house in London
He’s got a beautiful house but he’s ugly as sin
If you’re dressed in rags he won’t let you in
He made his millions out of ersatz booze
The more he’s got the more he’s got to lose.
Chorus: He can’t wait to get his hands round your throat
He’s a mean old grasping old mean old goat
He says he loves the poor man, he pays a bit of tax
He’ll do everything for us except get off our backs
But all his assets are a woodworm crutch
His philosophy of life isn’t worth all that much.
He’s an adventurer, and that’s no myth
He’s done everything he could get away with
He’s a capitalist cowboy riding the range
But he doesn’t see any need to change.
Chorus: He can’t wait to get his hands round your throat
He’s a mean old grasping old mean old goat
He’ll never be anything but a talking head
He’s part of the system but the system’s dead
He’s the greediest man you’ll ever come across
Business is business, but profit is loss.
He’s absolutely positively filthy rich
He doesn’t care how many of us fall into the ditch
His pudgy great hands are full of blood
He doesn’t care who else is trampled in the mud.
Chorus: He can’t wait to get his hands round your throat
He’s a mean old grasping old mean old goat
He’s the squire, the landlord and the boss rolled into one
Profiteer, usurer, middleman and dun
He supports the rights of the wealthy caste:
‘The first shall be first, and the last shall be last’.
He’s the foremost exponent of the culture of greed:
‘Take what you want, take all you need’
But remember, when he tries to tear you limb from limb,
The only power he’s got is what you gave to him.
Chorus:
Don’t ever marry a mean old goat
He can’t wait to get his hands round your throat
Mean old grasping old mean old grubby old goat.
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3. |
Corporate Welfare
02:12
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Corporate Welfare
You go to the zoo
See a monkey with its hand out
Corporate bludger
Government bail-out
Corporate filth
Corporate welfare
Greedy rich suits on the dole
Organised crime
Fraudulent business
Corporate slime
Parasite wasters
Corporate theft
Establishment bandits
When were they ever loyal to you?
Ten thousand Pharaohs
Six billion slaves
Concentrating wealth
Spreading the poverty
Corporate gamblers
Blood-sucking leeches
As long as you still got blood to give
World Bank swag-men
Government bag-men
Run the world casino
Of speculation
Promising jobs
Delivering slavery
Who called the businessman a crim?
Who called the crim a businessman?
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4. |
Ya Basta 2
03:23
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Ya Basta
Ya Basta Ya Basta
Ya Basta
We have had enough
Yeah we have had enough
Enough of your bankers
And their fatal merchandise
Your politicians
We can see through all their lies
Bloated pigs
Snuffling in the trough
Ever planning
Schemes to rip us off
Ya Basta etc.
Stick your slave-drivers
Cannibals of the poor
Money addicts
Always wanting more.
Speculators
Peddling shonky schemes
Advertisers
Selling poisoned dreams
Ya Basta etc.
Greedy leeches
Growing fat on swill
Pay no attention
To the people’s will
They don’t want
Connectedness -
Broken mirrors
Reflect their ugliness
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5. |
Meathead George
05:08
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Meathead George
Meathead George said ‘Let’s have a war -
Twice as big as the one before -
I’m gonna protect American soil
It don’t mean nothing that Iraq has oil’
Chorus:
Meathead George
Don’t mess with the sheriff don’t mess with Meathead George
Meathead George is hungry for oil; it
Appears he’s flushed his shorts down the toilet
He’s an emperor without any clothes
Does he have a brain? Nobody knows
Meathead George etc.
Meathead George got caught in the middle
His Enron mates were on the fiddle
His family made its fortune out of black gold
Don’t trust George, he’s bought and sold
Meathead George etc.
The world’s greatest terrorist
Is Meathead George the imperialist
He got where he is by corruption
And he’s got weapons of mass destruction
Meathead George etc.
Meathead George has some ugly mates
He’s the president of fifty rogue states
Most people didn’t want him to get in
Just twenty-four per cent elected the cretin
Meathead George, I’m gonna pray
For a regime change in the USA
Put up your guns and don’t be reckless
Resign and get your rich ass back to Texas
Meathead George
Don’t mess with the sheriff don’t mess with Meathead George
Don’t mess with the sheriff don’t mess with Osama Bush
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Dead Vicious Wellington, New Zealand
Dead Vicious are a four-piece DIY political punk band from Wellington, New Zealand, formed in 2002.
Their sound is classic punk rock with innovations. All songs are originals written by the band.
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On their ferocious self-titled debut, the Australian punks pit d-beat percussion against gnarled, metallic melodies.
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New York hardcore meets classic thrash metal meets Jane's Addiction-esque alternative on the Brooklyn crushers' sensational debut.
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Jagged post-punk from Sydney captures the sound of the ’70s in its acute angled guitars and detacted vocals.
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Revved-up and totally askew post-punk from Buffalo’s Ismatic Guru, with guitars that corkscrew like mad.
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