Salad from Doomsday Ballet by Bad//Dreems

No empathy inside of me
I turn the page, staring at the screen
American carnage and a taste for the sordid, I asked for chaos but I only got order
I can’t dance I can’t cum in the shower
I sleep for days and I don’t get paid
Another fucken playlist curated for the beige.. I fell asleep in the knacker’s yard
Identity politics and a cruise guided missile
Straight to the heart of the matter of fact
I had a bender for 7 days, Richard Wilkins was there and his face melted off
The war is boring and you’re boring too
Wrap your dick around a Coke can, give them a run for your money Now I’m a creature of my southern comfort
No way, get fucked, fuck off!
Live and die in the public eye,
you body shame me until I swallow my pride
I give you all what you wanted of me
But you don’t win friends with salad anymore
I broke the city with a knife in your lumber.. I’m sunbaking on a feral beach
Sitting in a drunk tank on Melbourne Street Put your tips in early and the beers are free
Life and death in the public mess
Moral porno on the TV screen
I drew the short straw if you know what I mean
Red top, hunt em’ down, mean machine
Back and forth since ‘77
I was looking for hell but I only found heaven
Up down and around and around
Now the mighty have fallen with their feet on the ground
My words are your words Your words are my words

• Alternative
• diy
• garage
• indie rock
• post-punk
• punk
• Adelaide