barbecue babylon

Generated 2007/06/08 20:03:15

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Goin' On Down To The BBQ
Fortune Cookies
Somewhere In The Dark
Abandon Ship
Buried The Pope
In Total Focus
The AARP Is After Me
That Big Weird Thing
Robbers & Bandits & Bastards & Thieves
Rain On Down
The Alibi Room
Wargasm 2005
Bold Marauder
Land Of Spook
Something's Gonna Blow
Bushwhacked

Tammy got a knife with a razor blade
She brought her baby with a burnt teddy bear
Lost her finger on a midnight swinger
Cook it up, she like it medium rare
All the gang is a-comin' on down
Dig a hole in Uncle Joey's backyard
Big Jack Spider brought a bottle full of cider
Walkin' blind with a security guard

Chorus:
Yeah, we're goin' on down to the barbecue
Everybody gonna be there tonight
Comin' on down to the barbecue
Bring a fire and we'll light it up right
Hey, Jack's comin' down to the barbecue
He got his mother with a gun in her hair
Everybody bringin' it over tonight
And we're goin' to the barbecue there
Comin' on down to the barbecue
Comin' on down to the barbecue

All Bud's children just pulled up in front
They got a horse with a rope 'round its neck
Aunt Petie just pulled her old bedsprings out
Light 'em up in the hole by the deck
Now shoot up the window and shoot up the door
And shoot up the lights every night
Someone light a crack pipe, Granny got a snack, right
Billy got a bomb on a kite

Comin' on down to the barbecue tonight
Everybody gonna burn it up there
Chunky lit a torch, too close to the porch
Runnin' round with a fire in his hair
Now if you know what's good for you
You better get there for Sammy the Snake
He gets butt naked and puts on a show
He bring a dirty magazine on a rake

Chorus:
Yeah, we're goin' on down to the barbecue
Comin' on down to the barbecue
Everybody gonna eat it up there
Comin' on down to the barbecue
Every comin' down to the barbecue
Carve it up and eat it up right
You wanna get eatin', when you get there tonight
You gotta get that horse and you tie it up right
Well!
Comin' on down to the barbecue! Repeat 10x

We got a horse and a lizard and a dog and a cow
And a pig in the barbecue––yeah!
Comin' on down to the barbecue!
We gonna roast your mother at the barbecue
Eat all the kin in the barbecue
We're gonna eat the whole family at the barbecue
We're gonna burn up the city at the barbecue
We're gonna kill all the lights at the barbecue
Comin' on down to the barbecue!
Comin' on down to the barbecue!

Spoken:
C'mon down!
We're gonna fill up the pool with all kindsa dead meat
Throw the gasoline in the pool and light it up with a big bonfire
In the barbecue.
Yeah!
C'mon now!
Everybody!
Yes!
Bring that shit with ya!
Yeah!
A-1 sauce!
Barbecue stuff.
Gonna eat 'em up at the barbecue.

Spoken skit:
What?
Are the cops here yet?
Come out with your hands up.
Quick––hide, hide everything. Hide it all.
Kids, come out with your hands up.
You will not be harmed if you surrender now.
Come out with your hands up, everybody.

credits

Written by: Drywall
Published by: © Copyright 2005 Dis-Information Music (administered by BMI)
Produced by: Stanard Ridgway
Engineered and mixed by: Baboo God and Stanard Ridgway
Recorded and mixed at: Impala Studios, Venice CA, Summer 2005

Walkin' down the street with my head in my hand
Like a big wheel beggin' with his face in the sand
Walkin' down the road, I was hittin' myself
With a ball-peen hammer that I took off the shelf

Chorus:
I just got to my fortune cookies
That's the way the cookie crumbles
I just got to my fortune cookies
That's the way the cookie crumbles

Crooked policemen are eating themselves
Bombs goin' off on the foreign shelves
Think about the future and the present and the past
Fascist state television––it's a blast!

Chorus:
That's the way the cookie crumbles
That's the way the cookie crumbles
That's the way the cookie crumbles
That's the way the cookie crumbles

Goin' down the street with a long moustache
Makin' love gets you more than a rash
Ocean fillin' up with a' stuff and trash
The world's splittin' off in a fire and ash

Chorus repeat x3 (as second chorus)

There's a power that is comin' out in the mud
Shit flyin' off like a pile of crud
Doomsday runnin' out of the sunrise
Born are comin' out and the skin on our eyes

Chorus repeat x2 (as second chorus)

Interlude:
That song––
that they always play at basketball games––
doot doot doot-doot doot doot doot-doot
It's just music, there's no words, no nothin'.
There's, just, like––
Know what I mean? It's like a big––
It's like what you're trying to do, in a way––
But you want to do more electronic music, which is not really––

credits

Written by: Drywall
Published by: © Copyright 2005 Dis-Information Music (administered by BMI)
Produced by: Stanard Ridgway
Engineered and mixed by: Baboo God and Stanard Ridgway
Recorded and mixed at: Impala Studios, Venice CA, Summer 2005

Lights out in the canyon
I keep lookin' for your meadowlark
Can y'hear the frogs a-croakin'?
Can you hear that hound dog bark?
I thought I'd pull it on over
And put it there in park
I got out and got lost
Somewhere in the dark
Somewhere in the dark

Now, once I had it in my pocket
Once I had it in my hand
But it got lost––it slipped right through
My fingers, just like sand
I saw it once, in a fishbowl
Swimmin' like a shark
I fished it out, but it swam away
Somewhere in the dark

It's like I'm walkin' through that twisted maze
With a blindfold on
Still don't recall or recognize
Which place I started from

Now I'm touchin' corners
And feelin' my way around
Am I at the end of the beginning
Or somewhere middle ground?
I can't concentrate or focus
I can't seem to hit my mark
Bumpin' into you
Somewhere in the dark

Interlude:
... recording of it, and–– Yah.
you hear what it sounds like.
I can talk with ~scrambled~ at the same time.
No problem.
Okay?
I'm talking...
And I'm going to be recording.
Recording something, and we'll, we'll, we'll look at the waveform later.
Find out how it's all coming down here on the big blue microphone.
Okay?
Ahh.
Okay, that's a good start.

credits

Written by: Drywall
Published by: © Copyright 2005 Dis-Information Music (administered by BMI)
Produced by: Stanard Ridgway
Engineered and mixed by: Baboo God and Stanard Ridgway
Recorded and mixed at: Impala Studios, Venice CA, Summer 2005

Sailing, sailing, sailors on the ship––we're sailing
Captain up on deck while the first mate is wailing
Crew is down below, get yourselves up to bailing
Captain, sir, we cannot hold this course, I think we should abandon ship!

Storm is coming in, all hands on the railing
Waves are crashing now, and the mist we're inhaling
Captain orders all to stay the course that we're sailing
Water on the mainsail, grab a bucket or a pail and bail!

Sailing, sailing, sailors on the ship––we're sailing
Captain up on deck while the first mate is wailing
Crew is down below, get yourselves up to bailing
Captain, sir, we cannot hold this course, I think we should abandon ship!
We should abandon ship!

Someone up on deck, bloody sabre they are flailing
Captain's head is off, and to the mast we'll soon be nailing
Turn the ship to sea, or to a port where there's good whaling
Return the rum and turn the boat, and so now this hardtack we will chew!
What's a sailor s'posed to do!

credits

Written by: Drywall
Published by: © Copyright 2005 Dis-Information Music (administered by BMI)
Produced by: Stanard Ridgway
Engineered and mixed by: Baboo God and Stanard Ridgway
Recorded and mixed at: Impala Studios, Venice CA, Summer 2005

Sun rose up that mornin'
A cardinal dressed in red
Ancient city flocked with people
Even pigeons had no bed
Prime ministers and kings
And queens and presidents behind the rope
And you could hear the hearts a-beatin' like through a giant stethescope
That's the day they buried the pope

Groups of nuns lit candles
Bowed their heads in prayer
Old men stood there and cried––
Thousands in Saint Peter's Square
The pilgrims all applauded
As they bore his wooden coffin through the incense smoke
And it was said among the crowd "He was a man of peace and hope"
That's the day they buried the pope

Chorus:
That's the day they buried the pope 5x

Now, mothers and their children
And folks from far away
Came through traffic jams and accidents
And I heard somebody say
When a world is in confusion
It make the devil hard to see––even with a big microscope
And the wind was turnin' pages on the book there that he wrote
That's the day they buried the pope

And there were police on the rooftops lookin' down with telescopes
That's the day they buried the pope

Yeah, the world choked up with lies
And politician double-speak
Nowhere to get the truth sometime
But some will always seek
Now, you can criticize it, run it down, maybe religion's not your dope
But it's hard to argue solid, 'bout a man of peace and hope
That's the day they buried the pope
Buried the pope.

Chorus:
That's the day they buried the pope 4x
Yeah, they put him in the ground along there with the other folk
That's the day they buried the pope

Interlude:
Check!
Okay.
Maybe, a little slower, huh? Uh-huh.
Two, three––

credits

Written by: Drywall
Published by: © Copyright 2005 Dis-Information Music (administered by BMI)
Produced by: Stanard Ridgway
Engineered and mixed by: Baboo God and Stanard Ridgway
Recorded and mixed at: Impala Studios, Venice CA, Summer 2005

Wake up in the mornin', wonder where I've been
There's so much information––I can't take it all in
Oh doctor, oh doctor––I think I'm near my magnum opus
He said "Boy, you gotta quit it––concentrate and keep focused"
Keep total focus

Now love will be a magnet, love will be a rule
We are just fish swimmin' in a dirty pool
Hey, maybe, if we're lucky, the government will dope us
If there's anything I've learned, yeah, you've got to keep focused
Total focus
Keep total focus

Brand new information, but then again I knew
My mind is workin' overtime on me and you
Now is this really true, or has somebody gone and group-groped us
The longer I'm around, yeah, you've got to keep focused
Total focus
Total focus

Life is to be led, no matter if you're up or down
There's a duty to your time, no matter if it's green or brown
But at times we're so dirty, why can't the Lord just soap us
I guess we've gotta keep on keepin' on, gotta keep ourselves focused
In total focus
In total focus
I'm totally focussed.

Interlude:
There's so many web sites.
People all over the world wanting his music.
And he's like, "D'y' think I'm g––"
And he's like, he has––
Why does he have low self-esteem? He's like––

credits

Written by: Drywall
Published by: © Copyright 2005 Dis-Information Music (administered by BMI)
Produced by: Stanard Ridgway
Engineered and mixed by: Baboo God and Stanard Ridgway
Recorded and mixed at: Impala Studios, Venice CA, Summer 2005

I woke up one morning, I was rubbin' my eyes
Had a big cup of coffee, then I walked outside
I opened my mailbox, and pulled out the envelope
Pictures of people there in glasses and gray
Got a brand new wheelchair, you don't have to pay
I stood there and shook, hey maybe I was havin' a stroke

Chorus:
The double-A R P is after me
I think they're gettin' pretty close
The double-A R P is after me
It's like they're givin' me that final dose

Yeah, the next few weeks, well it got pretty rough
My mailbox got loaded with all kinds of stuff
It's like they're gettin' me ready for a room with a TV and a nurse

Chorus:
The double-A R P is after me
They stuff they're sending they won't stop
The double-A R P is after me
They're checkin' me into that house of flop

I woke up one morning, I was rubbin' my eyes
Had a big cup of coffee, then I walked outside
I opened my mailbox, and pulled out the envelope Double-A R P is after me
The Double-A R P is after me
The Double-A R P is after me

Interlude:
My name is Jackie "Teak" Lazar.
Talent scout and big wheel.
I'm here now.
Looking Drywall.

credits

Written by: Drywall
Published by: © Copyright 2005 Dis-Information Music (administered by BMI)
Produced by: Stanard Ridgway
Engineered and mixed by: Baboo God and Stanard Ridgway
Recorded and mixed at: Impala Studios, Venice CA, Summer 2005

Spoken:
We are not moths.
We are not amphibians.
We are not interlopers or invalids.
And we are not handicapped!
Just rolling! Just rolling towards that––
Big weird thing!
Big weird thing!
Big weird thing!

I've been twenty years standin'
Here by the intercom
Big men upstairs
They don't sing our song
When the whistle blows
For the very last blow
Gonna walk out that gate
Back home I will go
Back home I will go
Back home I will go

Spoken:
It's a whitewash!
Disintegration!
Shitpiles––
Show me something that just seemed to rot and fester
And decay in a putrid stench of disintegrations
And shitpiles of sour psychotic panic
Show me these things, and I shall salute it!
We are palefaces walking backwards
Like steel-metal blue crabs with a bad attitude
Flying birds, sheep and polar bears
Animals uncanny
Everything is changing!
Everything is changing!
We are not moths.
We are not handicapped.
And we are not invalids!
We are those big weird things.
Big weird thing!

I've been twenty years standin' here
By the intercom
Big men upstairs
They don't sing our song
When the whistle blows
For the very last blow
Gonna walk out that gate
Back home I will go

Spoken:
So when you ask for whom the bell tolls,
It tolls for you.
When you ask for whom the bell tolls––
It tolls for you!
It tolls for you!
It tolls for you!

credits

Written by: Drywall
Published by: © Copyright 2005 Dis-Information Music (administered by BMI)
Produced by: Stanard Ridgway
Engineered and mixed by: Baboo God and Stanard Ridgway
Recorded and mixed at: Impala Studios, Venice CA, Summer 2005

Now, their stories are many, they've left us no clue
I can't name 'em out loud, no, they'd probably sue
And then lock us all up and then charge for the keys
Starve us and show us food piled on their table––
Robbers and bandits and bastards and thieves

Now, nothin' is new––hey, this story is old
Some will always steal tin and then sell it as gold
So draw a mark on the ground and then rake up the leaves
And you'll find that they're numbered––even nature is stolen
By robbers and bandits and bastards and thieves

Hey, where are the people? Who's watchin' the store?
Who's takin' the money while they let 'em get more?
In speeches transparent, they console and appease
But their show has been scripted, run by the head office
Of robbers and bandits and bastards and thieves

Hey, it's dark, and the wind is a-blowin' again
History will repeat what we cannot amend
And there's always the end that is blind to its greed
Under banners and colors, smile now for the camera
Robbers and bandits and bastards and thieves
Robbers and bandits and bastards and thieves
Robbers and bandits and bastards and thieves

Interlude:
What's wrong with the whole endpiece of this reaching the end of time where there is no time when there is no reaching, there is no time to be reaching the end, and the end has no...

credits

Written by: Drywall
Published by: © Copyright 2005 Dis-Information Music (administered by BMI)
Produced by: Stanard Ridgway
Engineered and mixed by: Baboo God and Stanard Ridgway
Recorded and mixed at: Impala Studios, Venice CA, Summer 2005

I've been feelin' low, twistin' in an awful pain
No matter where I go, every day it's pourin' rain
Baby had a dream, baby walk right over the cliff
Someone told a lie, sailin' on a sinkin' ship
Catch a windy world, pullin' on a fractured frame
Picture in my mind, river flowin' down the drain
No one on the air, no one in a jungle swamp
Trees are growin' bare, feelin' like a drunken cop

Chorus:
Rain on, rain on down
Rain on, on the ground
Rain on, rain on down
Rain on, on the ground

Motion in the air, tinglin' on the skin and scratch
Shadow on the wall, movin' as you strike the match
Somethin' from behind, moanin' like a wounded bear
Is that really you? Smokey, are you really there?

Chorus repeat

Shinin' red and green, these are on compacted chrome
Devil in my yard, diggin' up the downtown mall
Croakin' like a frog, underneath a moon in hell
Catch a dirty fly, buzzin' like a bad doorbell
Eyeball on the shelf, starin' at a hundred days
And are you goin' there, goin' through another phase

Motion in the air, tinglin' on the skin and scratch
Shadow on the wall, movin' as you strike the match
Tail is like a key, devil hand is on my door
Bring me vertigo, take me to a distant shore

Chorus repeat and fade

Interlude:
Take a green shower
Got a flock of birds
Movin' on the corner
And the plural of birds-urds
Think I heard the truth from the Taco Bell
I heard it from the bug with the eyes that swell
Moon comin' down like a bowlin' ball
Bear in the woods always walkin' tall
Reality TV, oh I haven't got the time
Media and stuff––wreck the fabric of my mind

credits

Written by: Drywall
Published by: © Copyright 2005 Dis-Information Music (administered by BMI)
Produced by: Stanard Ridgway
Engineered and mixed by: Baboo God and Stanard Ridgway
Recorded and mixed at: Impala Studios, Venice CA, Summer 2005

Chorus:
The Alibi Room––it's where I'll be
And there'll be no one makin' up excuses for me
The Alibi Room––it's where we'll meet
It's just a block or two down from Judgement Street
The Alibi Room––no way to get in
Unless you've got a special invitation from Jim
Jim at the backdoor, him big and mean
Don't look him in the eye unless you want to be seen

Must been a year ago, I pulled all the strings
And every damn puppet, I got tired of those things
I moved up here, lived in a sawmill
Breathin' in the dust and just a-drinkin' from the still

Chorus:
The Alibi Room––it's where I'll be
And there'll be no one makin' up excuses for me
The Alibi Room––it's where we'll meet
It's just a block or two down from Judgement Street

I've made a few moves, I've pushed a few brooms
But now I'm hangin' out here at the Alibi Room
Just a-livin' in the country, sleepin' in a cave
Hung out under bridges that the government made
To look at me, you think I never went to school
But I made & lost a million sellin' diamonds and jewels

Chorus:
The Alibi Room––it's where I'll be
And there'll be no one makin' up excuses for me
The Alibi Room––it's where we'll meet
It's just a block or two down from Judgement Street
The Alibi Room––no way to get in
Unless you've got a special invitation from Jim
Jim at the backdoor, him big and mean
Don't look him in the eye unless you want to be seen

One night inside I had my walkin' cane
I played a little pool with God and John Coltrane
Trane got the shot, but then there was a fight
So I took that eight ball out the backdoor that night
And I picked up the phone, and I dialed you in hell
Now, why you're livin' there oh I just never could tell

Chorus:
The Alibi Room––it's where I'll be
And there'll be no one makin' up excuses for me
The Alibi Room––it's where we'll meet
It's just a block or two down from Judgement Street

credits

Written by: Drywall
Published by: © Copyright 2005 Dis-Information Music (administered by BMI)
Produced by: Stanard Ridgway
Engineered and mixed by: Baboo God and Stanard Ridgway
Recorded and mixed at: Impala Studios, Venice CA, Summer 2005

We're the generals in the Pentagon
We ain't had no fun since Vietnam
Got lots of missiles and rockets too
But there ain't no war, nothin' for us to do

Chorus:
I want to have a wargasm
I want to have a wargasm right now!
I want to have a wargasm
I want to have a wargasm anyhow!

We got men and women too
No, it don't make a difference if they fit a shoe
We all go marching to a foreign land
It may be a jungle or a place with sand

Chorus repeat

Chorus repeat

Wargasm anyhow!
Wargasm anyhow!
Wargasm anyhow.

Whispered interlude:
Jake, c'mon––
It's Drywall.
C'mon, through the door right here––
You can see, look––
Stan is over there, he's over there, recording.
Be quiet.
I don't want him to see us.
He'll throw us out.
It's a top-secret kind of place here.
We could get in a lot of trouble.
I don't––I don't wanna––get thrown out, because, this is a special moment.
I hear music, just recording now.
See that red light there?
Recording sign.
So don't, don't, don't––
Wait, wait, wait!

notes

An early form of this song appears on the original Wall Of Voodoo demo tapes, making it more than twenty-five years since its original conception to its release.

credits

Written by: Drywall
Published by: © Copyright 2005 Dis-Information Music (administered by BMI)
Produced by: Stanard Ridgway
Engineered and mixed by: Baboo God and Stanard Ridgway
Recorded and mixed at: Impala Studios, Venice CA, Summer 2005

It's hi, ho, hey
I am the bold marauder
And it's hi, ho, hey
I am the white destroyer

For I will bring you silver and gold
And I will bring you treasure
And I will bring a widowing flag
And I will be your mother
And I will show you grotto and cave
And sacrificial altar
And I will show you blood on the stone
And I will be your mentor
And night will be our darling
And fear will be our name

For I will take you out by the hand
And lead you to the hunter
And I will show you thunder and steel
And I will be your teacher
And we will dress in velvet and sword
And dip our tongues in slaughter
And we will sing a warrior's song
And lift the praise of murder
And Christ will be our darling
And fear will be our name

It's hi, ho, hey
I am the bold marauder
And it's hi, ho, hey
I am the white destroyer

For I will sour the winds on high
And I will soil the river
And I will burn the grain in the field
And I will be your mother
And I will go to ravage and kill
And I will go to plunder
And I will take a fury to wife
And I will be your father
And death will be our darling
And fear will be our name

Interlude:
And when you think about the end, what is the end, anyway?
Like, the end of what? The end of an era? The end of, a, like––
The end of a license? The end of a––end of what?
What is the end?
There is no end.
And you talk about the end––
there is no end.
And you figure 'bout––

credits

Originally performed by: Richard and Mimi Farina
Written by: Richard Farina
Published by: Richard Farina / ASCAP
Produced by: Stanard Ridgway
Engineered and mixed by: Baboo God and Stanard Ridgway
Recorded and mixed at: Impala Studios, Venice CA, Summer 2005

Chorus:
Ghosts! Poltergeists! And banshees.
Different names to describe
Ghosts, poltergeists, and banshees
I've known them all here inside

Some will just happily wander
While others will cause trouble in your home
Some are now running for office
And some are gnawing at the bone

Chorus:
Ghosts, poltergeists, and banshees
They say help is on its way
Ghosts, poltergeists, and banshees
They say that someone's gotta pay

Now there is just one question
Have you been hypnotized?
Starin' at the screen––
Purple and green!
There's just one question
Have you been hypnotized?
Starin' at the screen––
Purple and green!

Chorus:
Ghosts, poltergeists, and banshees
Some make eighty K a year
Ghosts, poltergeists, and banshees
Vote them in and you vote for fear

I thought I saw a banshee
Writin' out his will
On a mountain in the distance
At the top of a hill
He had a tail clean and sharp
Just like a knife
It stabbed into my heart
And now I know wrong from right

Chorus:
Ghosts, poltergeists, and banshees
Different names to describe
Ghosts, poltergeists, and banshees
I've known them all here inside

Chorus:
Ghosts, poltergeists, and banshees
Ghosts, poltergeists, and banshees
Don't you know by now?
Don't you know by now?
Don't you know by now?
Don't you know by now?
Ghosts, poltergeists, and banshees
Some make eighty K a year

credits

Written by: Stanard Ridgway / Mr. Damian / Mr. David
Published by: Dis-Information Music (administered by BMI)
Produced by: Stanard Ridgway
Engineered and mixed by: Baboo God and Stanard Ridgway
Recorded and mixed at: Impala Studios, Venice CA, Summer 2005

We lived in a house in the middle of town
A little bit funky and a little run-down
The neighbors were friendly, the neighbors were nice
We'd cook up some beans and then we'd cook up some rice
And then we'd play music every day
We'd play music every day

A bulldozer came and took the life that we knew
For the good of a public that ain't me or you
So get along, little dogies, this misfortune's our own
Because the rent's goin' up and they won't give us a loan
Oh no, where we gonna go?
Oh no, where we gonna go?
C'mon, now! Play that organ!

They say the Lord redeems only a chosen few
His secret deck's stacked and there ain't nothin' we can do
But break our backs all day earnin' that minimum pay
And sign up to defend what keeps on slipping away
Oh no, where did it all go?
Oh no, Where did it all go?

Well I'm not real sure that Big Daddy knows best
When he lets his boys steal all the eggs from our nest
When he lets his dogs steal all the food from our plates
When they got big T-bones buried out by the gate
Oh no, something's gonna blow
Oh no, something's gotta blow

Repeat 3x:
Oh no, something's gonna blow

Interlude:
What the end represents to all of us is the end that was never the beginning, the beginning to the end and the end was never the end to the beginning that was never started in the first place!

credits

Words written by: Pietra Wextun
Music written by: Drywall
Published by: © Copyright 2005 Dis-Information Music (administered by BMI)
Produced by: Stanard Ridgway
Engineered and mixed by: Baboo God and Stanard Ridgway
Recorded and mixed at: Impala Studios, Venice CA, Summer 2005

Spoken by George W. Bush:
Mister Speaker, members of Congress, and fellow citizens:
Every year, by law and by custom, we meet here to threaten the world.
The American flag stands for corporate scandals, recession, stock market declines, blackmail, burning with hot irons, mutilation with electric drills, cutting out tongues, terror, mass murder, and rape.
Our first goal is to show utter contempt for the environment.
I have sent you a––I have sent you a comprehensive energy plan to devastate communities, kill wildlife, and burn away millions of acres of treasured forests.
This government is taking unprecedented measures to protect our people and defend our homeland.
We've posted more than fifty small men in airports, begun inoculating troops and first responders against hopelessness, and this year––for the first time––we must offer every child in America three nuclear missiles.
Today, we have arrested or otherwise dealt with many key commanders of Al-Qaeda.
They include a man who directed logistics and funding for the CIA, members of Congress, Vice President Chaney, one of them is found at the Department Of Defense.
One by one the terrorists are learning we are building a culture to encourage international terrorism.
Almost three months ago, the UN Security Council gave Saddam Hussein his final chance to disarm.
US Intelligence indicates that Saddam Hussein had the materials to produce three liters of anthrax.
Enough doses to kill five children.
The British government has learned that Saddam Hussein recently had an advanced nuclear weapon in his arse even while inspectors were in his country.
Our intelligence sources tell us that he has attempted to purchase three hydrogen-powered doctors and the western wall of the Pentagon.
Saddam Hussein has not credibly explained these activities.
The United States will ask the UN Security Council to consider Iraq's ongoing defiance of the world.
Secretary of State Powell, plant information to incite fear about Iraq's links to terrorist groups.
I have a message for the people of Iraq: go home and die.
Trusting in the sanity and restraint of the United States is not a strategy and it is not an option.
In all these efforts, however, America's purpose is more than to follow a process. It is to achieve a result: the end of the civilized world.

credits

Written by: Drywall
Published by: © Copyright 2005 Dis-Information Music (administered by BMI)
Produced by: Stanard Ridgway
Engineered and mixed by: Baboo God and Stanard Ridgway
Recorded and mixed at: Impala Studios, Venice CA, Summer 2005