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The Legendary Pink Dots
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Greengang
Drowning in dog stew and strangled in vine. Blister wine
burns the inside . . . (They flew in a line over poppy fields.
They'd drop and they'd blast their supply. On demand!
They persist. They pervert. They command：'RED alert.'
And green burns to yellow, to orange, to dirt covered
baby bones in powder piles. Mile after mile. And a
line costs a dime. A slaughter's a quarter. Yes, the
Green God's immortal, whispers 'Peace in our time.' RED alert!
Here come the Green Gang . . . .
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