
phreakin’ the phone 1972
Lyrical cycle by R.U. Sirius with a few actual songs and videos attached
Hey Hey We’re The Punkees (with apologies to The Monkees)
I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by 4Chan
Dragging themselves to the living room couch at dawn in search of an angry tweet
With your knickers in a twist
Or your panties in a bunch
William Burroughs shot his wife
Then wrote The Naked Lunch
With your panties in the closet
And your knickers in a whirl
Coming all undone cause
Dr. Who is now a girl
With your panties in a bunch
Or your knickers in a twist
I think you’re gonna punch me
As I eat my naked lunchee
Pan African mixed cuisine
Cooked up by a honky queen
Please fill out your requisition
For the latest inquisition
Hey hey we’re the punkies
People say we’re not The Ramones
We’re the 4th generation
Some say we’re conformist drones
We’re just trying to be friendly
Come and watch us tweet all day
We’re the young generation
You better watch what you say
What I Learned
A tantric master is telling me how to live
Release no jism – Just find your rhythm
A hindu guru is telling me how to die
Try not to try – It’s another high
A politician is telling me where to stand
Take no prisoners – Fuck the pensioners
A porn star Barbie is sending me her link
She isn’t there – But I don’t care
A jolly nerd is telling me what to do
Upload my brain – You’ll feel no pain
A country singer is telling me where it’s at
Let love come to you – then hit it back
I Politician
recorded by Party Dogs (1982)
Listen to I Politician

I’ve got a little think tank
I call it home
I ain’t too highly paid though
Just flesh and bone
I’ll put a little thingie out
On video cassette
And hope the Minister of Propaganda
Don’t get too upset
Still it all comes though
The United Matrix of America
Pagan rhythms out of Africa
Pagan shipments out of Kathmandu
From the Aztecs to the Ming
Genetic carnival on wings
We’ve got a little freak show
We call it “The Hunchback Squeaks”
And then I politician
I get on up and I speaks
“I got a lotta rage” he cries
“And lots of irony”
You’re baboons in a cage” he lies
“I’m going to set you free”
Still it all comes though
The United Matrix of America
Pagan rhythms out of Africa
Pagan shipments out of Kathmandu
From the Aztecs to the Ming
Genetic carnival on wings
Gotta get back to L.A. now
Got a media jones
Talking with the network boys
and taking out more loans
I get 3 minutes on NBC
Attack the ruling class
I’ve got 4 friends at NASA now
If I have to move my ass
Still it all comes though
The United Matrix of America
Pagan rhythms out of Africa
Pagan shipments out of Kathmandu
From the Aztecs to the Ming
Genetic carnival on wings
Avant God
I want an avant god
Loving perversity
Unlimited diversity
Optimized for my iPod
Totally portable
Sometimes snortable
Gendered or not
Maybe subject to rot
Why not?
The avant god is as real
As the knees on which they kneel
Try to keep it on an even keel
The kind of god you have to steal
The avant god is false
The kind of god you must report
The kind of god that misses court
The kind of god you know you want
I want an avant god
Loving perversity
Unlimited diversity
Speed and Weed
recorded by R.U. Sirius & Phriendz
watch video of Speed and Weed

How I wish I could still do speed and weed
Paranoid listening to Let it Bleed
Long letters to J.G. Ballard and Chuck Manson
Kidnapped my shadow and held it for ransom
How I wish I could still do speed and weed
Wide awake watching the cops retreat
Twin Peaks repeats with a bunch of crazy chicks
Midnight the Castro for some real alt dot kicks
How I wish I could still do speed and weed
Be so sharp when I have to go on TV
Head back home kick it with some china white
Growing older man — it just ain’t right
How I wish I could still do speed and weed
Growing older man — it just ain’t right
Surfin’ Weatherman (w. apologies to the Beach Boys, The Rivieras and Bob Dylan)
You don’t need a weatherman to know we’re toast
Shit’s getting Biblical from coast to coast
I’m moving’ to Ohio where the chicks are groovy
Surfin’ with Mike Love we’re gonna make it a movie
And they’ll be surfing in Boston
And in the ruins of Pompei
Deep in the deserts of Kashmir
L.A. has gone cra-cra
They’ll all be grabbing their children
And all their property too
Tell everybody they’re surfing
And everything is cool
You don’t need a weatherman to know we’re toast
Everybodys freakin’ from coast to coast
Going’ back to California where the chicks are pissed
They’ll kneel before my virtue when I raise my fist
And they’ll be shooting deniers
And oil CEOs
And all Republican Senators
And every Fox News host
They’ll all be grabbing their children
And all their property too
Tell everybody they’re surfing
And everything is cool
Be My Valerie Solanas
by Creosote Cowboy
Listen to Be My Valerie Solanas

Offer her a lollipop
Offer her some gum
Offer her most anything
Don’t offer her my gun
Offer her de Beauvoir
Or offer her de Sade
Keep your shit together man
Fall to your knees and pray
If you’ll be my Valerie Solanas
I will be your Robespierre
Nothing can come between us
‘cept that thing underneath your hair
We have so much in common
Let’s get off on a tear
Bring it down Kill the clowns
We’re such a lovely pair
Offer her a role in porn
Offer her revolt
Offer her most anything
Offer her your scorn
Offer her some Tribe 8
Or offer her Genet
Keep your shit together man
Fall to your knees and pray
If you’ll be my Valerie Solanas
I will be your Robespierre
Nothing can come between us
‘cept that thing underneath your hair
We have so much in common
Let’s get off on a tear
Bring it down Kill the clowns
We’re such a lovely pair
I Wanna Be Your Radio
recorded by MONDO Vanilli (1992, partly written in 1980)
Listen to I Wanna Be Your Radio

I wanna steal your radio
Sacrifice your fingers to an electric fence
I torture you in future tense staccato
And come back home and rest in bed all day
I’ve got techniques for ecstasy
Keeping them under the hat stand
Let’s whip ’em out
And see if anything fits on your head
I wanna steal your radio
Capture you on a hard disc drive
Save you and make a million copies
Give one to each of my friends
I inverted the very color of being
But you — you weren’t there
I wanna be your radio
Sire wire fire and inspire you (cyber cyber)
Flick the switch that renders you insane
Come back home and rest in bed all day (cyber cyber)
I wanted to be Salvador Dali
I wanted to be dead and unreasonable
Let’s grieve in concentric circles
To make the night release your brain
I wanna be your radio
Now I wanna be your radio
Punters Fighting Punters (with apologies to Harry Nilsson)
Punters fighting punters
Owners sailing yachts
You can jump into the fire
You can suck a million cocks
You can smash a million statues
You can run and jump and spit
You can chant a billion slogan
And it won’t amount to shit
We can make each other privileged
We can make each other privileged
We can jump into the fire
We can scream and rave
We can beat another wage slave
We can beat another wage slave
We can beat another wage slave
But you’ll never be free whoa whoa
Read more “What Is The Sound of a Billion Knees Jerking?”