Dreadlocks of the Suburbs

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