Текст песни The Bacon for Tomorrow's Breakfast (The Rudy Schwartz Project) с переводом

Lend an ear, pretty child

Who counts birdshot in a dead man’s chest

You don’t wanna hear about napalm, you just wanna rock

Circus magazine says that you’re writing a song that you’re gonna dedicate to

the Panthers

Wake up before the whole fucking world goes into the atomic sewer

And you two have a very abstract thing going here

I’ll flash my cock if you’ll burn your draft card

Worn out, harsh, run out

Hands reaching in the air, grabbing at everything

A lot of guys with boners

A lot of girls in heat

Everybody angry, crying, hard up

Boners against blue jeans

I look for rainbows and all I see is pig blue

Look for flowers, I see crap all over the oval loom rug

I look for father figures and I get Richard Milhouse Nixon and Spiro Agnew

I look for love and all I get is napalm

The lady is a poet

The mystics could tell us; the gurus; the medicine men

They feel we’re in the 15th round; the ninth inning

In the capitals of the world, men who can no longer get their peckers up have

found a new way to get turned on

They’re the butchers of the world with their 18-pound sledgehammers

The bacon for tomorrow’s breakfast will have the peculiar color of ash

I could snuff him with a pillow

No, he must go the way he’s expected to go

Look, I’ve got a blade, I could open up a lung

That’s right, he’s gotta choke on it

If you look in the back there, you’ll see I don’t have a rug on the floor,

I got linoleum

That’s for puke from people like you

Rock and roll is dead

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