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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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