Dreadlocks Of The Suburbs Lyrics - Dead Kennedys

[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 

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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 

Photos 

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]