Lyrics and Explanations.
the nostalgia of burning leaves.
if you can catch it, never let it go. hold on. embrace this, because once it's gone it's never coming back. and when it's gone you'll only see what you threw away; what you now lack. the regret will eat away at you and the longing for this moment, here and now, it will never end. it never ends.

we really need to take a good hard look at what's going on around us. i see too many people wandering through life, complaining that nothing's going on; nothing's happening. there is a wonderful scene flourishing around us, and many take it for granted and aren't tapping into the many resources available. when they've grown up and moved on, i think a lot of kids are going to wish that they had taken advantage of this time. the title of the song is just me wishing that i'd spent more time playing in the leaf piles we had to rake, rather than sitting inside watching television programs that i've, long since, forgotten about.

bike punx unite.
ride fast! ride hard! get on yr bikes and ditch the cars. get on yr bikes and ditch the cars! it's the same excuses every fucking time: it'll take to long, it's too far to ride. what else are you going to do with yr life tonite, go drinking with the boys, go out getting into fights? ride fast! ride hard! watch for cops, watch for cars, biking on these streets can be an all out war. it's the same excuses every fucking time: it'll take too long, it's too far to ride. what else are you going to do with yr life tonite? watch some more t.v., don't move, just sit tight. ride fast! ride hard!

this song goes out to everyone who peddles their way through life. right now there are more cars than people in the u.s. what's the point in that? is there really a need? suv's are anything but necessary. we're being sold a trend and the price we're paying is going to cost future generations tremendously. and we don't seem to care. on top of this, we're lazy. it's easier to hop in yr car and drive to a friend's house than it is to hop on yr bike and ride there. if i can take a car, why shouldn't i? we're in a big hurry to get nowhere fast. our priorities are completely fucked.

john wayne died with sixty pounds of undigested material lodged in his colon, most of which was red meat.
you are the flies feasting on roadside corpses, yr children, the maggots, choking down flesh. we've got these new generations, with the same old traditions and habits. we'll pull off yr wings, radiate you with magnifying glasses! yuck!

talk about being sold trends. have you thought about what it is that you've been eating lately? have you thought about where it came from, what processes it went through before it ended up in yr mouth? we raise animals just to kill them. their short lives are spent in confinement. their short lives are spent being tortured. they become bio-machines, for us to use, abuse and then discard. an eight year old girl was brought to the doctor by her parents because it seemed that she was menstruating. the doctors ran tests and found nothing wrong with her, other than her diet. she loved chicken and ate it as often as she could. because of people like her, companies are having problems meeting the high demand for meat, so they pump growth hormones into the chickens at alarming rates. these hormones are so prevalent in the chickens that it passes from them right into us, upon eating them. this girl ate so much chicken that the amount of growth hormones in her sped up her growth process; she is already living beyond her years. when's the last time you ingested some extra hormones? look for them in meats and milk in stores near you!

strike anywhere, risk all.
undercover, ninja style. out on bikes, we'll be gone a while. my backpack's full of paint, i've got a pair of rubber gloves. run! duck! spray! hide! this is what i love. this is my love. spray painting the walls, a marker in my hand; every night another story, another song for the band. m.d.o.p., i just call it art. grab a can and some gloves, it's dark, it's time to start. risk all! risk all! risk all! risk all!

this is just about my love of graffiti. what can i say? i don't think that what i do is/should be considered vandalism, but i realize that there are a lot of people out there who are vandals and aren't putting anything positive into the scene. we need to take back some of the space that's been bought up by faceless corporations. speak yr mind, paint the walls! oh yeah, and m.d.o.p. is malicious destruction of property.

fifty-three square inches.
a life spent in cages. just fifty-three square inches. a short life of torture and unspoken abuses. their beaks violently removed. growth hormones injected. their legs break under their weight. no wingspan, no justice. their lives become a waste. drive thru, pay and taste.

again with the chickens! what the fuck? people don't want to hear that their diets are fucked. just like i don't want to hear about how the tyson corporation (they supply you with all yr frozen food needs) kills one fourth of all land animals in the u.s. each year; that means pigs, cows, chickens and young sheep. just like how i don't want to hear about when mcdonald's released the chicken mcnugget they became the second largest buyer of chickens in the country, only surpassed by kfc. and their nuggets, when tested by harvard university, more closely resembled beef than chicken. and, finally, how i don't want to hear about how kfc has figured out new ways to produce chickens that are born with few to no feathers, no beaks, and few other body parts that would link them to a normal chicken life. this way they can easily turn them in to a five piece with a side of coleslaw. we realize that genecide is wrong. we realize the holocaust was wrong. we realize that slavery was wrong. when will we realize that the meat and dairy industry is wrong?

kill off the consumption gene.
we are all consumers, that much is sadly true. but with everything that you've been buying, what are you gonna do? when the credit cards have reached their limits, and they want what's theirs. when the repo man is at your place, he's coming up the stairs. all that's left for you to do is file for bankruptcy, and all the possessions that you've bought haven't really made you that happy. from early on in life we're taught to buy, consume and own. get a family, get a car (or two), have two (point five) kids and buy yourself a home! spend paycheck after paycheck to fill your life with shit, then spend the rest of your life just getting out of debt. with these credit loaning companies it's them versus us, and with their (high) fixed percentages they won't stop until we're crushed. so kill off this consumption gene!

when people first heard this song, i was asked if i had read 'culture jam' by kalle lasn. at the time i had to look down toward my shoes and say, 'no'. i hate it when that happens. so i went out a read that book. everyone should read that book. i've since become a big fan of their 'adbusters magazine'. my only complaint is that it's expensive, so you gotta steal it. back to the point though, we just buy too much. it's insane. advertising catches you everywhere, it creeps into our brains and makes us want! want! want! i've found myself buying stuff in the past that i thought i needed desperately, then i notice it on a shelf three weeks later collecting dust. we need to flip this switch off. we need to take control of what's important to us, and not let other people tell us what it is we need. rework advertisements you see on the street with spray paint or markers. rework billboards, pop machines, benches, buses, everything. deny advertising that which it seeks. kill off this consumption death binge.

do you understand what we're losing?
at some point we must draw a line across the ground of our home and of our being. drive a spear into the land. and say to the bulldozers, corporations and our government - thus far and no farther. if we do not, we shall later feel instead of pride the regret of thoreau, a good but overly bookish man who wrote near the end of his life, 'if i repent for anything it will likely be for my good behavior'. thus far and no farther! at some point we must draw a line across the ground....

come on, this song includes the words 'thus' and 'shall'. how punk is that? pave the world though, right? everywhere you look there are parking lots and strip malls. when you go downtowm how many trees do you see? not perfectly placed bushes and hedges that accentuate architecture, but real natural areas. we are living beyond the means of the earth. our rapid use of resources will not stand for long. why do we even have paper plates, disposable utensils and paper towels anymore? because we're lazy. we're in it for a quick fix. how long do we have? not long.

don't exploit me.
this is a punk show, not a fucking strip club. we don't show our tits here, this is not mardi gras. we will entertain you, but not with our bodies; with our hearts and voices. so listen up - we've stepped out of the kitchen! this is supposed to be fun, not intimidating. this is our dance floor, this is our platform. we are not just pretty faces and miniskirts. you can see it in the we walk! we think that we have to arouse you, that our hearts aren't as important as our bodies. but it's all a facade. it's what we've been fed over and over again. we have our convictions and we are strong. maybe we don't show it, but i think it's time. this is a punk show, not a fucking strip club. we don't show our tits here, this is not mardi gras. we will entertain you, but not with our bodies; with our heats and voices. so listen up, we've stepped out of the kitchen!!

don't degrade yourself, and the rest of us, by allowing someone to treat you like a decoration. show they that you are more than a body. you are part of the music. this is yours to claim.

we all cross paths.
it's at that point when you can break someone down, just enough. objectify them, freely hate them. it's reason enough. when homosexuals are just dykes and fags, and women are bitches and sluts; when they stop being human beings made of flesh and blood. just drop the righteous attitude because we are all one. i won't be happy until the day comes when you can see that we're all one. we are all the same whether you like it or not. we are all the same whether you understand or not. we are all the same whether you accept it or not. we're all one! no amount of name calling or bashing will change that fact. there's nothing yr gonna say that's gonna change that. this segregation is just a pause, cuz we all cross paths. we're all one!

in writing this i didn't mean to sound like i want everyone to be like me. that's a wee bit fascist. what i was trying to get out is that people look at each other, not as human beings, but as labels. 'oh, he's a fag.', 'she's a slut.' or 'they're emo'. we objectify wimmin, and in doing so i feel that we degrade the whole human race. we turn wimmin into the body parts that the sex industry shows us that we should revere. we turn people into words that immediately lower them, and raise us up in the process. i can't endorse such a fucked up way of life. if we live in a truly democratic society, where we all have equal say, then we should all be on a level playing field. now, i realize that we don't live in a democratic society, rather, we live with a representative democracy. but because the affluent have taken over our government doesn't mean that we have to follow their lead by creating unnecessary strife and diving lines. we're all human beings. we are all basically the same. it's what we've learned along the way that has messed things up. and anything learned can be unlearned. stop the hatred. open up. and most of all, be patient.

lower class anthem.
you know the feeling you get when yr paycheck finally comes and it seems that one third's missing and you don't know where it's gone? then there's the rich white man, safe up in his big mansion. this all affects him less because of his countless millions. so tax the rich and not the poor, there's one solution, tax war! the lower class, you know the score. a life of work is what we're for. so tax the rich, not the poor. there's one solution, class war! we're put through revolving door. we owe our lives to the company store. when life is spent on the lower rung, missing money hits you hard when there's next to none. so tax the rich, not the poor. one solution, class war now!

now that you've read the words it's fairly obvious where i stand on this subject. the lower class is always going to be busting it's ass to try to keep up in this consumer driven culture we've created for ourselves. and it's the upper classes that depend on our production. they have little, to nothing, without us; but we're not given what's deserved for the work we do. the rich prosper, being taxed little in comparison to how much they have, while the poor are raped. the rich own everything and sell it back to us, or even better, they rent it to us; which leaves us with nothing in the end. meanwhile they get fat pockets and bigger bank accounts. ride yr bikes through town and notice how burned out the poor areas (ghettos) are. then venture outside of the city and look at the walls build around upper class homes and neighborhoods (the new kingdoms). there are definite lines drawn. very few cross those lines. imagine if those lines were blurred. if there was one class. if the playing field were leveled. how weird would that be? until that time, i'd rather be poor and in touch with reality.

stemming the brain.
brain's said it time, time and time again, he doesn't like bands with a political agenda. that's what killed the beastie boys and never gave rage a shot. he could go off all day hating spazz and charles bronson. brian gets all pissed when me and brandon hate on comes, he's all, 'that shit ain't cool. you guys should probably stop'. we need to stem the brain, we need to stem the brain. brain reads the paper everyday about the war. he believes all that he reads, like a good media whore. he defends our country, but he doesn't back the prez. 'i didn't vote for him', so i guess i'll give him some credit. and he'll probably hate this band because we've got something to say. he likes two heded chan, and that's just not okay. we need to stem the brain, we need to stem the brain. brian is the brain.

i work with a fella named brian. we call him the brain because at the tattoo shop i work at you can sign the wall when yr done getting pierced or tattooed; some one wrote, 'thanks brain for the tatto, you the man!' not everyone who comes in here is a scholar, but since then brian has been the brain. brian is everything that i am not: smoker, drinker, meat eater, he also works as a d.j. in a strip club, he's patriotic, he's conservative and traditional. so we clash all the time. one day anti-flag was playing on the stereo in the shop and he asked, 'why can't they just sing a song about chicks or cars?' he lives an insulated life. everything going on in the world doesn't bother him unless it directly effects him. and it's because of people like this that the planet is being driven into the ground, that our government is big business, that our culture is big business. if everyone got up from the couch or computer chair and took a look around they too might notice that things are jacked. and yes, that's how two heded chan spells their name, their initials are t.h.c. coverband jokers.

just another cop song.
it's to protect and serve, not hunt down yr prey. these power trips with badges, who the hell are they? they're the high school bullies who used to kick my ass. now they still fuck with me, but hide behind their badge. give a man a fish and he'll eat for a day, give that man authority, he'll never go away. it goes straight to their heads, this power they receive, government sanctioned robocops with immunity. cops do what they want and cops do as they please, they just flash their badge at the judge and they get off scott-free. man or woman, black or white, i don't have much success. it always ends up the same way, a warrant or arrest. i don't see me as a criminal, i'd never hurt anyone. a spray can and a marker are hardly drugs or guns. but there's a price to pay, what's the going rate? we call this this freedom, living in a police state. now my dad's a cop, so i know what it's like. i realize outside of work that most have an uncop life. but when they're on patrol they should keep this in mind, it's their job and duty to protect and serve mankind!

okay, cops. where do you even begin. my dad was a cop, so when i was young i wanted to be a cop. luckily i grew out of that one. i don't think i've ever had a good experience with a cop. a few weeks ago i was taking a walk with rachel, it was around 9:00pm and a cop rolled by. he slowed way down and checked us out, but kept going. he turned into an alley and went around the block and quickly rolled up again and asked me what we were doing. i told him we were taking a walk. he asked where. i told him we were just taking a walk, no real destination. he then asked my name. i told him my first name, and he told me my last name. i was surprised. he knew me, but i didn't know him. he then asked me if i had any writing materials or spray cans on me. i said no. he then told me to put my hands on the hood of his car. this was happening right in front of a v.f.w. hall. there were people outside wondering what was going on. cars driving by, slowly, looking hard. he completed a full search, felt everything. everything. when he found nothing he asked rachel if she had anything on her. when she said no, he proceeded to search her! when i asked what this was all about he told us that there was a wave a graffiti plaguing the downtown area. he asked if i knew anything about it. i told him that i've seen it, sure, i live downtown. he then asked me to give him names, because he knew that i know who's doing it. i laughed. he then said that the reason he stopped was because he saw the patch on my hat, my a.t.o. patch. he said that they've seen those stickers all over town lately, and they normally accompany the graffiti. i told him that i can't help who's hands the stickers end up in, and where they stick them. i then asked if i could except this fiasco on a regular basis. he said that he works every night, and every time he saw me he'd stop me and search me. he said that i could complain to his supervisor if i didn't like it, but he wouldn't give a fuck. he then named where i work, who i work with and people i hang out with. so they know all about me, yet he had the nerve to ask me where i live. i told him that he already knew. i got his name and badge number from him and he got back in his car and peeled out to go fight crime. actually he just kept driving around the block for our entire walk. he was always around the corner from us. watching. waiting. while mom and pop shops were being robbed. while girlfriends were being pushed down the stairs. while fights were breaking out at the bars. he was watching some kids take a walk. kids that like to write on walls. oh yeah, his name was giger, badge number 42. watch out for him. i don't think he follows the rules. and he's got a real foul mouth, even for a cop.

did somebody say sisterhood?
i see it in the girls eyes, i've been seeing it my whole life. we've been turned against each other as competition, for another form of male attention. i can't count the number of times i've heard girls say, 'most of my friends are guys. girls are too hard to deal with.' how will we ever learn from each other and form a place were we can grow together? we need to take control of this situation. we were not put here to serve male domination!

where did we learn that the attention of men is more important than each other? our whole lives are a constant battle. we are jealous and catty. we hate the pretty girls, and label them bitches and sluts. we never trust each other. some of the best relationships i have had have been with wimmin, once you get past that thick layer of bullshit. embrace the wimmin around you. we can't let the boys get the best of us.

these are the facts: we are so fucked.
the whole world is rotting. the water is poisoned. the air is polluted. the politics are deformed. the land has been gutted and the forests are pillaged. the shores are ruined. the towns are burnt. the lives of the people have been destroyed.

these are the facts. and we are totally fucked. the way we are living, the planet will not be able to support us for much longer. we take take take and don't give back. actually, that's not true. each one of us gives back just about our own weight in garbage each week. everywhere i go around here i see landfills, all around outside detroit , coopersville, whitehall , muskegon . and those are just the one's i see on a regular basis. we take our garbage to other states. put it on barges. we shoot it into space. the amount of trash floating around earth is growing steadily. we're fucking ourselves, and we don't seem to care because mcdonald's in serving bratwurst now, and volvo just released a new, more aerodynamic, model. we too busy with more important things. someday everything is going to start to fail. things will shut down and earth will eject us into oblivion, just like you shot that burger king cup out the car window. we're dumping chemicals into our waterways. we're clear cutting forests to make money and room for more malls. look at the way our government operates; the secrets, lies and cover-ups. we've got medical waste floating in the water our children are swimming in. our quality of life is slipping through our fingers.

just another two inches off the waist, but there's no enamel left on my teeth.
choke to fit an image, starve to look alright. keeping up appearances, but you'll never look quite right. because the trends they're always changing, every season's something new. what's the t.v. selling now? advertising targets you. corporations own us and we'll do whatever it takes, because we crave acceptance despite however high the stakes. from bulimia to dieting, disorders come and go. mass media has taken over when the average size is zero.

how far are we going to let advertising go? you can't escape being told what to buy. every day in the u.s. there are roughly 12 billion display ads, 3 million radio commercials, and more than 200,000 television commercials. you personally see about 1500 a day. there are labels and brand names on everything. you are not cool until you have such-and-such from so-and-so. at least that's what they tell you. but what this is really getting at is what marketing is doing to our own self image, especially that of girls. nine out of ten north american wimmin feel bad about some aspect of their bodies. a 1992 survey of eleven to fifteen year old girls revealed that about fifty percent thought they should be thinner (and that's eleven years ago). and girls as young as five are watching what they eat. thank you abercrombie and fitch, american eagle outfitter, the gap, old navy, the buckle, etc. girls walk into the mall to buy clothes and are faced with models who actually have their bottom ribs removed to appear smaller. and i just got inside info that the gap and abercrombie and fitch run their clothing sizes off to make girls feel better about shopping there - if you're a size nine, you'll find that their size four fits you perfectly. so you feel thinner, you look better to yourself, and probably others; and you'll always want to shop there. have you been roped in? let's break this chain. the effects of torturing yr body to seem more attractive now, will kill you soon. don't be just another statistic, be a voice - strong and proud.

hitler was a halfwit.
i know yr at that age when everything is new, and everything that impresses leaves its impression on you. yr looking for that something that will define who you are. just know that the choices yr making - regrets leave mental scars. so go and play white power and hate all that you can. will we watch this mixed up boy become a mixed up man? go and play white power, show the world yr strong. let's just hope this phase is short, and you realize yr wrong. go and play white power but take it somewhere else. somewhere else where no one is, go play it by yrself. i'll tell you right now that it's not the smartest choice. choose yr words carefully before you raise yr voice. so go and play white power, but take it somewhere else. somewhere else where no one is. go play it by yrself. go play by yrself!

i have no tolerance for racism. none. i feel that taking pride in something that you had no control over is weak. you didn't choose to be white, it just worked out that way. and to me, reveling in that fact means that you have nothing real to fight for. racism is a last ditch effort to have a cause. you can always fall back on the one thing that no one can take from you, the color of yr skin. and the fact that this ignorance is taught to our youth is disturbing. i don't know how many more times i can repeat this, we're all human beings. we've all been thrown into this series of fucked up situations that we call life. unity shouldn't just be a dream or an option, it should be par for the course.

red, white and jesus.
- whitey didn't need and invitation to sail over here and set up shop, so we started killing 'savages' and the killings never stopped - because the land was infested with all these 'hot-blooded heathens' we looked to god for answers, and god supplied the reasons. the beginnings of white supremacy is about power based on race. throw in some christianity and wipe the indians from this pure white place. we pushed them onto reservations, far from sound and sight. god will thank you on judgement day for doing what is right; for doing what is white.

i saw a t-shirt once that had a silhouette of three indians hauling ass on horses, tomahawks in the air; below them it read: my heroes scalped yr heroes. i always thought that was killer. and those stickers that read - yr on indian land - are sweet too. somehow we tend to overlook that fact. how would you feel if someone just showed up at yr place one day and moved all his belongings in. and a couple weeks later he was, not only still there, but he was taking over. pretty soon you find yrself out on the street. that would bother the hell out of you. well, we are that new roommate. we wiped out a nation, and it was all because they didn't look like us and they didn't believe in the god we believed in. for shame! casinos aren't my thing, but i think their fucking hilarious, because it's the native americans (isn't native american degrading? i mean, we named this place america. they were living here long before us without that name) finally raping us back for what we did. casinos are full of dumb white folks finally financing some easier living for those who called dibs on a land that was then taken from them. don't tell the dumb white folks though, because. knowing them, they'd stop showing up if they knew what they were doing. sshhhh.

punching bag.
there were times that i would have killed him. a child shouldn't know this hate. i watched the situations escalate. a little girl trying to stop a train. a little bit older, i serve as consoler. cataloging all of yr afflictions. the bruises to yr body and mind resurface with each new guy. my pleading remains the same. please leave mom, he's not worth the pain. this cycle is perpetuated by wimmin who know only this routine. and men who use control to prey on the weak. show me the strength you profess.

i wrote this after years of watching my mother be abused physically and mentally. after years of meeting wimmin who have barely survived, or are still fighting the same situations. love is not something you have to survive.

FUCK COPYRIGHTS