Cannot be reclaimed, reused, reduced or recycled.... 

Trilogy Of Trash

It all starts out in the ground, every toy, every car, every town
We dig it up, we tear it out, we make some crap, we throw it back
Let’s go down to the wal-mart, put some stuff in a shopping cart
Drive it home, use it a while, toss it in that big trash pile
Love that phone, that video game, the world’s a mess but I’m not to blame
I do my part with my recycle cart, I fill it every week with some pulped up trees
 We got aluminum, plastic and cardboard boxes, it’s all okay ‘cause it ain’t that toxic
It’s gotta go somewhere, it can’t stay here, I gotta have space to keep my beer
Eat another meal at the heart attack, I don’t quite finish, they just take it back
To the dumpster, the final resting place, home of the whopper, Americas disgrace
New car smell now in a can, latest model out, everyone’s a fan
We got flat screen, big screen, DVD, we got fancy crap nobody needs
It’s all made in some shit hole towns, they get a bowl of rice nobody frowns
Neil Young calls it a piece of crap, just go and throw it in da dumpsta
Everything we got is disposable, but Ken and Barbie are so poseable
It’s shiny and pretty and totally useless, 20 year old kids, totally toothless
But they all got the new playstation, the big fat shame of our nation
This world, it has come to a standstill, you want to know why, just look in the landfill


THROW IT IN DA DUMPSTA

I saw a raven cross the sky. He flew so high
Circling, he drifted down, landing slowly on a mound
On a mound of all those bags, bags of black, bags of green.

You took me down to the garbage dump on the old dirt road by the KOA
We hoped we’d see some bears that day at the old garbage dump where the scavengers dine

I saw the beauty in this hell, chaotic colors, and sweet sickening smell
Scattered tires and rusted frames, refrigerators with bloody stains
Chicken bones and moldy porn, a half nibbled on ear of corn
I saw a head rising from the pile, black and brown I swore he smiled

Well we saw maybe 10 maybe 12 maybe more
When they looked at us they were probably hoping we’d come back in a bag
Back in a bag
Come back in a bag


BACK IN A BAG

B.A.D. by 4 Food Groups Of The Apocalypse

Just a few little tunes cooked up in the last couple of years. No, not a devil worshiper. 666 is my address. Really...

Trilogy Of Trash

Dave @ 666