1. |
Boyfriend
02:32
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Boyfriend
I want to kill your boyfriend
I want to kill your boyfriend
I want to kill your boyfriend
Before he kills the girl in you
I want to hurt your boyfriend
I want to harm your boyfriend
I want to hurt your boyfriend
Before he gets to hurting you
I want to crush your boyfriend
I want to squash your boyfriend
I want to crush your boyfriend
Before he crushes the life in you
I want to smash your boyfriend
I want to thrash your boyfriend
I want to trash your boyfriend
Because I still love you.
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2. |
Ya Basta (Enough)
04:03
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Ya Basta
Why does a peasant need a gun?
Why is the human race on the run?
You got to be united, you have to be tough
Shout Ya Basta, enough is enough
Ya Basta, Ya Basta
If you’re in the family of the poor
You got nothing to lose, that’s for sure
Bounty hunters have unfurled
A ring of terror around the world
Ya Basta, Ya Basta
The banker comes and takes your land
Leaves a scorpion in your hand
You ask for food – they give you a stone
You ask to be heard – they sell you a mobile phone
Ya Basta, Ya Basta
Capital’s capos at the gate
Stand on the ruins of the nation state
You don’t want to go where they’re coming from
They use their wealth like a neutron bomb
Ya Basta, Ya Basta
On the consumer superhighway to hell
You need to resist, you need to rebel
If you want to win the Fourth World War
Be a Zapatista wherever you are
Ya Basta, Ya Basta
There’s a pile of pressure building below
It’s a volcano ready to blow
You got to be united, you have to be tough
Shout Ya Basta, enough is enough
Enough is enough, Ya Basta
Ya Basta, Ya Basta
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3. |
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Capitalist cheerleaders (Fat gits in suits)
They meet in Melbourne, they meet in New York
They know what they’re doing, they do more than talk
Wealthy Elite Fraudsters, they’re slick and move fast
Profit comes first and other people come last
Capitalism works – don’t try to knock it
It works because the government’s in their pocket
They’ve got control of the money supply
But no politician is asking why
Chorus: Fat gits, fat gits, fat gits in suits
Don’t let your sisters near fat gits in suits
Supporting ‘democracy’ is their stratagem
But when did we ever vote for them?
They pay the cops to keep us in line
They spell ‘success’ with a dollar sign
They trash your wages like never before
And wonder why they can’t make you spend more
They feed the workers into their machines
Business is war by another means
Chorus: Fat gits, fat gits, fat gits in suits
Don’t let your girlfriends near fat gits in suits
They met in Genoa to carve up the turf
If you’re not one of them, you’re only a serf
They’re the cosa nostra and the cosa nova
They shoot you first and then run you over
They own the world and the company store
They don’t want a lot, they only want more
The boss has a car and a place to park it
But there’s not much freedom in the free market
Chorus: Fat gits, fat gits, fat gits in suits
Don’t let your mothers near fat gits in suits
If you ask my opinion of their stewardship
I’ll drop my trousers, bend over and let rip
If we’re going to defeat their master plan
We need to eat the rich and burn the white man
Chorus: Fat gits, fat gits, fat gits in suits
Don’t let your brothers near fat gits in suits
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4. |
Burning Lemmings
02:49
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Burning Lemmings
Your daddy owns a caddy and a Porsche
And he drives like Cesare Borgia
He’s addicted to his machine
He shoots it up with gasoline
On Sunday he gets down on his knees
To wash away every trace of grease
He drinks whisky from the bottle
And steps hard on the throttle
Chorus: Look at those burning lemmings
Watch them leap and fall
What’s with those crazy lemmings?
Have they got no brains at all?
It was a bummer of a summer in Top Town
He couldn’t drive with the top down
All those traffic jams made him mad as
A turkey with two full bladders.
He burns on down the harbour drive
I don’t know how he’s still alive
Motorways are unforgiving
But he’s still in the land of the living
Chorus: Look at those burning lemmings etc.
He’s a chiselling right-wing quisling merchant banker
If you listen to him too much you’ll get cancer
He’s a capitalist operator
With his foot on the accelerator
He doesn’t care about you at all
He drives you right up the wall
He never picks up a hitchhiker
He can stick it up his balalaika
Chorus: Look at those burning lemmings
Watch those suckers fall
What's with those crazy lemmings
Have they got no brains at all?
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5. |
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Guerrilla Love (Smash the State
From about the age of eight
I read Proudhon and smashed the state
Property is theft and profit is loss
And don’t ever drop your tweeds for a boss
You look smashing with your head half shorn
You look cool with your jeans all torn
You look great dressed in black
Even if you wore a rubbish sack
The first of May is our special date
You look smashing when you smash the state
You stand out from the human race
You’re more than just a pretty face
Those studs in your eyebrow, ears and nose
Are like the thorns on a rose
Would it upset you if I say
I really love your DNA
We could be like fist in glove
United in guerrilla love
I’m going to spend my tax rebate
Gonna buy an axe and smash the state
You got a mind that throws off sparks
You got more savvy than Karl Marx
You’re old enough not to vote
And you’d never marry a rich old goat
I can’t explain – it’s something innate
That makes me want to smash the state
You know it’s time to wipe the slate
Let’s clean up and smash the state
Things are bad but it’s not too late
Let’s get smashing and smash the state
Even if it’s covered in armour plate
Let’s get smashing and smash the state
Let’s settle down and smash the state
Let’s have kids who smash the state
Why don’t we smash the state
Why don’t we smash the state why don’t we …….
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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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