words: Biafra, music:Biafra/Ray/Flouride/Peligro



Finally got to Washington in the middle of the night

I couldn't wait

I headed straight for the Capitol Mall



My heart began to pound

Yahoo! It really exists

The American International Pictures logo



I looked up at the Capitol Building

Couldn't help but wonder why

I felt like saying "Hello, old friend"



Walked up the hill to touch it

Then I unzipped my pants

And pissed on it when nobody was looking



Like a great eternal Klansman

With his two flashing red eyes

Turn around he's always watching

The Washington monument pricks the sky

With flags like pubic hair ringed 'round the bottom



The symbols of our heritage

Lit up proudly in the night

Somehow fits to see the homeless people

Passed out on the lawn



So this is where it happens

The power games and bribes

All lobbying for a piece of ass



Of the stars and stripes of corruption



Makes me feel so ashamed

To be an American

When we're too stuck up to learn from our mistakes

Trying to start another Viet Nam

Like fiddling while Rome burns at home

The Boss says, "You're laid off. Blame the Japanese"



"America's back," alright

At the game it plays the worst

Strip mining the world like a slave plantation



No wonder others hate us

And the Hitlers we handpick

To bleed their people dry

For our evil empire



The drug we're fed

To make us like it

Is God and country with a band



People we know who should know better

Howl, "America riles. Let's go to war!"

Business scams are what's worth dying for



Are the Soviets our worst enemy?

We're destroying ourselves instead

Who cares about our civil rights

As long as I get paid?



The blind Me-Generation

Doesn't care if life's a lie



so easily used, so proud to enforce



The stars and stripes of corruption

Let's bring it all down!

Tell me who's the real patriots

The Archie Bunker slobs waving flags?

Or the people with the guts to work

For some real change



Rednecks and bombs don't make us strong

We loot the world, yet we can't even feed ourselves

Our real test of strength is caring

Not the toys of war we sell the world



Just carry on, thankful to be farmed like worms

Old glory for a blanket

As you suck on your thumbs



Real freedom scares you

'Cos it means responsibility



So you chicken out and threaten me



Saying, "Love it or leave it"

I'll get beat up if I criticize it

You say you'll fight to the death

To save your worthless flag



If you want a banana republic that bad

Why don't you go move to one

But what can just one of us do?

Against all that money and power

Trying to crush us into roaches?



We don't destroy society in a day

Until we change ourselves first

From the inside out



We can start by not lying so much

And treating other people like dirt

It's easy not to base our lives

On how much we can scam



And you know

It feels good to lift that monkey off our backs



I'm thankful I live in a place

Where I can say the things I do

Without being taken out and shot

So I'm guard against the goons

Trying to take my rights away

We've got to rise above the need for cops and laws



Let kids learn communication

Instead of schools pushing competition

How about more art and theater instead of sports?



People will always do drugs

Let's legalize them

Crime drops when the mob can't price them

Budget's in the red?

Let's tax religion



No one will do it for us

We'll just have to fix ourselves

Honesty ain't all that hard

Just put Rambo back inside your pants

Causing trouble for the system is much more fun



Thank you for the toilet paper

But your flag is meaningless to me

Look around, we're all people

Who needs countries anyway?



Our land I love it too

I think I love it more than you

I care enough to fight



The stars and stripes of corruption

Let's bring it all down!



If we don't try

If we just lie

If we can't find

A way to do it better than this

Who will?

D E A D K E N N E D Y S



JELLO BIAFRA D. H. PELIGRO

Vocals Drums & Vocals





KLAUS FLOURIDE EAST BAY RAY

Bass & Vocals Guitar, Synthesizer,

and 12-string Electric Bellzouki





Produced by Jello Biafra

Engineered by John Cuniberti

Mixed by Cuniberti and Biafra

Recorded at Hyde St. Studios, San Francisco









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