Music

Lyrics: Bastards of Slime (2022)

01 Jizzaster Strikes

Oooo yeahhhhh {instrumental}

02 Bastards of Slime

Gotta spew this off my chest
We’ll keep it under three (threeee)
Shut your mouth and take some notes
Under our learning tree

Spotify will never pay a dime
We earn our cash from shirts
Our favorite halls have come and gone
The new spots are the worst (that’s yours)

The driveby bois drink past last call
We sell more merch near then (we get drunk)
All you bands that leave to sleep
You won’t be booked again (you’re gone)

Pay to play is killing the scene
Is that the best you’ve got
Eleven bands to earn some green
Why can’t you take a shot

Don’t switch up your genre
Cause your EP bombed in sales (it sucked)
I’d rather hear a steady band
Then one who rides the rails

All these sleazy bookers
Treating bands like worthless trash
Your bar will soon be empty
better show the crew some class (go)

This whole song sounds jaded as fuck
But these thoughts just must come out
We’re getting far too old for this shit
But, you’re going down for the count

We’ve been around way longer than most
You rookies bail after five (sometimes even four)
To blind to see that you’ve been outworked
By the bastards… the bastards of slime

03 CümBüm

The bar is high for the dates we book
You don’t deserve our time
But if the show is missing a crook
You came to us and we’ll
take every dime
You’re broke

Guarantees will set you back
We always keep our pockets lined
You’re leaving this in the black
It’s far too late the deal’s been signed

Now we’re changing the terms
We’re taking double the cut
After all this only confirms
We’re greasy as fuck

04 Spank Bank

Your last record didn’t sell for shit
And you’re the one to blame
Now you’re suckin for a 2way split
Come ride our train to fame

Take a ticket, get in line
Your riffs blow but your cash is fine
Sign the contract, grow a spine
Your down payment might cover our wine

Thank your agent for the sage advice
She barely gave this a glance
I bet you thought you were getting a slice
You never stood a chance

The papers show that you owe us dough (where’s my fucking money)
We need the cash on the spot
You got in bed with the kings of thrash
And now your savings will rot

Who are we foolin, you won’t pay a cent (you won’t pay a cent)
You haven’t worked a day in strife
We’ll take the money from ya folks instead
And leave em broke in the afterlife

05 Meth Nachos

Twelve hours in a rotting van
The best dudes around (sure)
Got a show from the internet
The gross side of town

Cross the tracks, dump the beast
It’s time to scope the spot
We hit the bar, drink some snacks
This trap is fucking shot

The whole hood’s on fuckin meth
And we’re here to push some shirts
Not a soul in the room tonight
Who’s gonna hear our squirts

Thirty minutes of gremlin thrash
Get the fuck off stage (boo)
But when it’s time to settle up
The booker’s half our age

Not a dime for the touring acts
He’s in over his head
Here’s a mic from the sound guy’s rack
Go sell that Shure for bread

Years later and the gear still works
Still spewing gorps tenfold
We’re turning gray but we never forget
These roads are paved with mold

Good times, long rides
Wouldn’t trade a thing
Kickin ass, smokin grass
Still have learned to sing

Two more decades in a rotting van
That’s how our story will end

06 Repulsive

The tour was booked and our options were thin
We’re printing shirts and tossin cash
And when you start to feel safe in your skin
Another message in the trash

Your name’s too vulgar for our classy spot
We’ve got our standards to keep
We’ll find a jobber to fill your slot
These local dweebs play for cheap

Your lyrics are vile
You should be on trial
Your band is so repulsive

Your samples are funny
You’ll never draw money
Your band is so repulsive

Your name is offensive
Your merch is expensive
Your band is so repulsive

Your members are wasted
Your titles are tasteless
Your band is so repulsive

Truth be told they never wanted us there
We’re just not ready for prime
Analepy’s got a date on the 4th
And now we’re running outta time

Instead of filling your staff with cash
We’re getting tanked at Clayton Bev
Thirty kids slammin beers in a mall
The perfect place for us to shred

Your lyrics are vile
You should be on trial
Your band is so repulsive

Your samples are funny
You’ll never draw money
Your band is so repulsive

Your name is offensive
Your merch is expensive (2 for $60)
Your band is so repulsive

Your members are wasted
Your titles are tasteless
Your band is so repulsive

It’s all your fault that we’re selling out
Our brand is covered in grime
We’re turning heel without a doubt
To pay the mortgage on time

07 Gore for Your Dollar

We need the cash to pay our tab
So here’s an ad for you
Where else can one watch shows and films
Sign up and join Hulu

Letterkenny, Animaniacs (you can take it to the max)
What other reasons do you need (we’ve got boloney in our slacks)
$5.99 for the basic plan (does not include the tax)
Or pay some more live TV (Bill Clinton plays the sax)

You can start a free trial today, but
After 30 days, you had better pay

Hulu.com is where you go
(use promo code bukkake)

08 Cocaine Buffet 2000

My horse is sick
You egg suckin dog
Your mom’s a whore
My god damn eye

My eye, Jerry, my god damn eye

Lit that torch but then we kept it
Slow down kid, let’s get our shit in
Fear Arn’s wrath, snort Tully’s stash
My neck’s dissolved from all the gas

We’re not done, we’ve just begun
We’ve still got cum left in our tank
We’ll stomp your dick we’ll slam your ass
We’ll drink until it’s time to thrash

We’ll fight…. forever
Forever
Forever

Chugging roids and slamming ciders
Three eight balls are in our riders
Playing fast, we smell like trash
We’re dumpster boys, we have no class

We’re not done, we’ve just begun
We’ve still got cum left in our tank
We’ll stomp your dick, we’ll slam your ass
We’ll drink until it’s time to thrash

Time to thrash
Time to thrash

09 Sap Fetish

Another record, another tour
The boys are back to blow your mind
Still writing hits about thrash and gore
A fuckin’ waste we haven’t been signed

You lazy slobs with your “plans and goals”
Can’t drop a track in three years time
We wrote an opus when the world went dark
Now we swim in the bank of grind

We’ve been trashed around the globe
Which might explain our units sold
You’re waiting for this shit to fold
Our riffs are dipped in solid gold

Why would you ever book us again
No lessons learned from the past
We’ll out-party the crowd by ten
then, we’ll cut the set in half (go)

You need us here cause we fill the jar
Our vulgar act does the deed
Don’t forget we pocket half the bar
We’ll take the rest in weed

We drank up our profits and we
gorged on our advance
Now just hand us our door split
or we will leave you where you stand

10 Roid Bloat

Endless pressure weighs you down

You need a vice to clear your mind
The stress of life eats you whole
A few hours to leave it behind
A blackout night is the goal

Scarf a burger, chug some wine
Slam the pills, now i’m feelin fine
Pack some bowls, fill some holes
Just havin fun, spinning outta control

Shoot some roids, make some noise
Do what it takes just to fill the void
Snort some lines, don’t pay the fines
Nobody cares if you’re doing time

You need a vice to clear your mind
The stress of life eats you whole
A few hours to leave it behind
A blackout night was the goal

Now i’m bloated and the world’s a mess
Can’t sleep it off in the sun
A night of fun leads to weeks of more stress
A ton of damage done

Scarf a burger, chug some wine
Slam the pills, now i’m feelin fine
Pack some bowls, fill some holes
Just havin fun, spinning outta control

Shoot some roids, make some noise
Do what it takes just to fill the void
Snort some lines, don’t pay the fines
Nobody cares if you’re doing time

Life’s too short to let waste away
Soak up the thrills when you can
Your clock is ticking day by day
It’s all apart of the plan

I’d rather die with the fun of youth
Then overstay and play it safe
But these words are beyond the truth
I’m gonna rave in the grave

11 Big Boy Tuff Stuff

We haven’t retired yet
There’s still gas in the tank
All the others will drown in debt
And we’re off to the bank

Our records fly off the shelf
Your dollars pay the rent
Our merch sells for itself
We have your cash, get bent

15 years of paying dues
All the other bands quit
We’re still around, chugging booze
And you’re swimming in shit

You’re only here for the sample bits
And the stolen slams
That a new drummer behind the kit?
Whatever happened to Sam
(wait where’s Sam?)

Big boy tuff stuff, playing beat downs
We’re breaking fire codes
Adding up royalties, making all the towns
We need more crucial loads

SOD writes all our riffs
If ain’t broke, don’t fix
Mr Brault rolls all our spliffs
So he’s in charge of the mix

15 years of playing dives
Still bummin cabs off marks
We steal the show and head outside
Still bummin drugs off narcs

You’re only here for the sample bits
And the stolen slams
That a new drummer behind the kit?
Whatever happened to Sam
(I can swear he’s still here)

Big boy tuff stuff, playing beat downs
We’re breaking fire codes
Adding up royalties, making all the towns
We need more crucial loads

POD writes all our riffs (Southtown)
If ain’t broke, don’t fix
Anthony makes us stiff
So he’s in charge of the mix

12 Soma Coma

Ehhhhh
Lock us up to keep us safe
Now you’re trapped with thoughts
No leader to guide the way
You chase your worries with shots

No food, no jobs, no tours, no friends
No reason to start the day
No end in sight, you breathe in spite
Your life could fade away

Lock us up to keep us safe
Now you’re trapped with thoughts
No leader to guide the way
You chase your… worries with shots (chase shots)

Over time everything has changed
(shots, shots, shots shots)
You need to quench your thirst
As the panic expels your brain
You stop to fear the worst

Now we’re back to the world we knew
Getting wrecked with the boys
To wrap it up all we have to show is
Thirty minutes of dumpster noise