[Jello Biafra:] This is for all you people who like to get away with passing joints around in the front row of the Old Waldorf. What would Heavy Metal magazine think? This is called Dreadlocks of the Suburbs.
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Why don't you come to my room
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Had enough of being fucked by business
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Ain't enough to fund my habits
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Looks like alcohol so grab it
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Had enough of being uncool
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Loosen up like all the folks do
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Like a lumberjack in my eyes
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Have a bottle or two tonight
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And oh, oh, be a dreadlock of the suburbs
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And oh, oh, be a dreadlock of the suburbs
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Some peyote and ferascas
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And a new Havana philosophy
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I don't know too much about him
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He knows how to make it never-ending
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With a stash that's supremo
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He's got any colors going
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I took out an ad in High Times
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Got to keep up with the new world
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Because oh, oh, I'm a dreadlock of the suburbs
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And oh, oh, I'm a dreadlock of the suburbs
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And oh, oh, I'm a dreadlock of the suburbs
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Because oh, oh, I'm a Rastafarian
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Forget your social status
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Listen up misfit
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We can be so high
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Where you can't say a word
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Because we're so cool, we're someone
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Okay, there it is, listen up
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Looking through all my pictures
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Especially in the South
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Got a stake in the promised land
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Until my Daddy strikes the gold
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And oh, oh, be a dreadlock of the suburbs
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And oh, oh, be a dreadlock of the suburbs
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And oh, oh, time for the dreadlocks of the suburbs
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'Cause oh, oh, I want to hold you right now
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The more things change, the more they stay the same [x4]
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Dreadlocks Of The Suburbs
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| Dead Kennedys |
