Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Suburbia Overture / Greetings from Mary Bell Township! / (Vampire) Culture / Love Me, Normally, artist - Will Wood.
Date of issue: 09.07.2020
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Suburbia Overture / Greetings from Mary Bell Township! / (Vampire) Culture / Love Me, Normally |
White picket fences |
Barbed wire and trenches |
Trick or treat, merry Christmas |
Howdy neighbor, thank you, Jesus |
Oh, what is he building in that painted lady? |
A participation trophy wife or blonde, blue-eyed baby? |
Wide-eyed and wired, the snap-crackle-pop of the Geiger |
Camouflage billboards for lead-lined Brooks Brothers |
You elbow the jukebox and sing «Duck and Cover» |
And breed out our incisors, feed on white wine and Pfizer |
It don’t look like survival, b-but buy now or die |
Suburbia |
You’re not alone |
The lights are on |
But no one’s home |
So, welcome home |
Myers-Briggs, OKULTRA |
Takes a village to fake a whole culture |
Your ear to the playground, your eye on the ball |
Your head in the gutter, your brains on the wall |
Home is where the heart is |
You ain’t homeless, but you’re heartless |
It’s the safest on the market |
But you still gotta watch where you park it |
So give me your half-life crisis |
I can tell that you know where paradise is |
Where parasites don’t care what your blood type is |
Only pheromones and serotonin decide |
If it’s true that a snowflake only matters in a blizzard |
Everyone knows that nobody knows that |
Everybody’s all up in my, everybody’s all up in my |
Everybody’s all up in my business |
Suburbia |
Where you belong |
The lights are on |
But no one’s home |
So, welcome home |
Ch-ch-chameleon peacocks are talk of the town |
Well, word gets around on hit number stations |
He cums radiation |
The dog bites the postman while basement eyes dream |
Of a night at the drive-in with an AR-15 |
I dropped my eyeballs in the bonfire, we fucked on a bed of nails |
I caught Kuru from your sister and died laughing in jail |
Smell those screaming teenage sweetbreads on the 4th of July grill |
Smile and wave, boys, kiss the cook, live laugh and love, please pass the pills |
It’s only culture, it’s only culture |
It’s only culture, sulfur, smoke, and soot |
You learned to torture house cats like vultures |
You cocked and sucked your lack of empathy, pulled the trigger with your foot |
to prove you’ve got |
Blood, didn’t they want your blood? |
So why apologize for being blue and cold? |
Blood, didn’t they want your blood? |
So don’t apologize when you turn blue and cold |
It’s only culture, it’s only culture |
It’s only ah, ah, ah, ah |
Culture’s not your friend |
Hey, fuck your culture, I ain’t got no culture |
It’s only culture, and it’s more afraid of you than you are of it |
Go on, drink that |
Blood, didn’t they want your blood? |
So why apologize when you turn blue and cold? |
Blood, didn’t they want your blood? |
So don’t apologize for being blue and cold |
Were you Nabokov to a Salinger? |
Jung to Freud or Das to a Leary? |
Were you mother, daughter, subject, and author? |
You don’t make the rules, you just write them down and do it by the book you |
throw around |
Do you know the difference between blazing trails and slash-and-burn? |
Going against the grain and catching splinters? |
You pull out your Rorschach like a paint-by-numbers treasure map |
The ink upon your jigsaw piece trace you back to your fingerprints |
Well Lot he had his lot in life, Job his job and I guess you’ll too, and die |
The Lord looked down, said, «hey, you’re only mortal» |
Giveth and taketh away 'til things come out a certain way |
Leave you wondering when they might go back to normal |
Leave you wondering why they can’t have just been normal |