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Hüsker Dü




Альбом Hüsker Dü


Land Speed Record (1981)
1981
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. . .


Got these little pills
To curb your appetite
Take a couple of these
You'll be up all night
I can scream, I can jump, I can shout
I can tear the whole place down
When I take a couple of these
I don't want you around

All tensed up, did too many pills
Wanna get near you but I can't stand still

Baby, I love you, but I'm too loaded
To love you properly

. . .


Can't explain the way I feel
It's all so clear, it's all so real
Some kind of game, they're all the same
Don't need it 'cause I'm always to blame

You're freaking out all the time
You've lost touch with reality again
And what you do when you're alone
Don't try to call me, just leave me alone

Don't try to call, don't try at all
Forget my number, forget my name
Don't try to call, don't try at all
I'm never home when you're all alone

Well, now you say that you're OK
I don't buy it when I see you around
You fight and suss, what's the fuss
I just told you, forget about us

. . .


Every time I see that girl
My lips begin to curl
She's livin', she's livin' in another world
She's just too damn surreal

And I'm not interested
In what she's got to say
I'm not interested
It's all lies anyways

You lead your life so pure
You really do not know for sure
Which way you're really going
And that's what bothers me

. . .


We've got guns at my school
You've got guns at your school
Guns and knives/taking lives
Fuck you!

Every time it's a different story
When they come to our territory
Is it fun or race relations?

Guns at my school
Think that's cool?
You like violence?
Think it makes sense?
(Fuck, no).

. . .


Hear the sirens in the afternoon
Enemy missile gonna hit us soon
Casualties will be gigantic
Run down the street and panic

Push the button baby
Freak out, overreact
Push the button baby
Attack Attack Attack Attack

Living underground is no fun
Can't talk to anyone
Ain't got no outside influence
Staying alive by civil defense

Turn your TV to a defense station
They'll provide emergency information
Hide in a cave if you know what's best
Announcer says, "No, this is not a test"

. . .


Gilligan's Island
Is where I wanna be
I wanna fuck Ginger
Underneath a big palm tree
I wanna make the professor
Make some good drugs for me
Oh Gilligan's Island
Is where I wanna be

. . .


Gotta gotta go now
Gotta keep a date
Be at the corner
Mistake to be late
Half block away now
Bus is at the light
Driver's grinning madly
It's a run for your life

MTC, MTC
You did it again, you did it to me
Getting on the bus now
Throw away your change
Don't forget your transfer
Driver's acting strange
Bus is really crowded
Can't find a seat
Going real fast
Gonna crash in the street

Picking up the pieces
In a fight that never ends
Getting away this time
I know we'll meet again

. . .


Don't have a life
That I wanna live with you
There's a thousand things
That I'd rather do
It's my life, told you
There's none for you
Just let me be
You jam my groove

Don't have a life
That I wanna live with you
Every time I see you
You're always down and blue
You hide in yourself
But that's nothing new
Sorry but I don't
Have room for you

Don't have a life
That I wanna live with you
It's wild now,
With you it'd be a zoo
It's my life, told you
There's none for you
Just let me be
You jam my groove

Don't have a life
That I wanna live with you
This is getting strange
What're you trying to do?
Told you there's none for you
Just let me be
You only jam my groove

Don't have a life (4x)

Leave me be please (4x)

. . .


Brick on the head from the top of the ceiling
Urban sniper, urban killer
Won't be finished until you're dead
Urban sniper, urban killer
Brick out the window, top of the head
Brick on the head 'cause you're a fuckhead
Brick at the window, top of my head
You're a fuckhead

. . .


I'm tired of doing things your way (12x)

. . .


Here we go with politics
It's so fucked, it makes me sick
He's a socialist, you're just thick

Tell me you're an anarchist
What's that swastika in your fist
You're naive, you're naive
You don't know who to believe

. . .


Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday
Friday, Saturday, Sunday, aagh...

Seven days (7x)

. . .


If you're tired of all those other dances
If you're tired of all those other moves
You should do this dance that's really wayout
You should do this dance that really grooves

Buzz like a drone
To that guitar tone
Be the cool chick on the scene
When you fly around like a queen

Do the bee (16x)

Jump around like you're having a real good time
Jump around, then go and pollinate
Do the bee when you are at a party
Being a social insect is so great

It's even money
You'll impress your honey
Build up a sweat
And look at the attention you get

. . .


Big sky, what a place
Big town, big deal

Big sky, blacks and whites
Shove that tape deck up your ass

Big sky, big town
Big wheel, big deal

. . .


Fight for your country
Fight for your life
Days are numbered
Soon dismembered

Ultracore, ultracore
We don't wanna die in your fucking war
Ultracore, ultracore
It's either them or us to fight

Bite on a live wire
Chew on a live wire
Days are numbered
Soon dismembered

. . .


Don't run away (3x)
Why should I stay
And give my life away

You've picked my number
First thing I've ever won
But that's just my luck
Now you got me
Now I'm stuck
Stuck in a rut with
A knife in my gut

You've cut the odds
My chances have dwindled
Nobody wants me now
Gotta get out
Gotta get away
Escape to die
Some other day

Now I'm getting really confused
I wish I were you
Then I'd sit around and decide
Just who wins
And just who dies

. . .


A nine digit number
For every living soul
That is all they talk about
At Data Control
They know everything about you
Keeping secrets is too hard
Your life is all recorded for you
In holes punched in computer cards

Data Control (digital readout)
Data Control (perforated feedout)
Data Control (microfilm files)
Data Control (1984 style)

A multinational corporation
A stockholder's dream
A nightmare of diversity
A defense system so supreme
Too technical to talk about
Too complex for layman's brains
It's enough to make you paranoid
Or drive you crazy losers sane

. . .


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