The 25cc moped was so very cool
It had a two stroke 25cc engine
A full body fairing with space
Under the seat for the rider’s helmet
Was fitted with bright LED lights
And a neon digital display for the speed
Not to mention a comfy green double seat
The off road tires were big and chunky
And the body was painted blue
All in all this moped was cool
Even if illegal on most roads
The engine was just too small
But it was fine for the sticker said:
125cc and nobody questioned the lie
Allowing me to ride my moped
Wherever I wanted
At a top speed of 30mph
To whizz on by

Boom! goes the dynamite as we fish for fish
No line, net or hook needed
Just a few sticks of dynamite and a Zippo
Light the stick and toss it in
Wait a few seconds and Boom!
There’s a dozen fish ready for the ***
Try not to use fast burn sticks
You’ll end up in heaven or hell
And make sure you throw it far
You don’t want splash backs
Or to sink your boat if afloat
I’ve caught sticklebacks and great whales
And a U-boat and dozen other types besides
Ate my fill in twenty nations
While dynamite fishing
It’s no good for the reefs
But we pay off the officials
No permits needed
You know how it is cash talks
So I’m allowed to fish where I want
And am off to France soon
Followed by Spain and Italy
To do some illegal Boom! fishing...

Soviets are like mosquitoes
Always there in the environment
There’s no escape from them
They get in your head

So they rule you remorsessly
By power of paranoia
A bite is a bullet
An infection is a bomb

A disease is a nuclear blast
Mosquitoes are Russians
Russians are mosquitoes
Waiting to be eradicated

By a superior power
Always ready for war
Endless circle of deceit
Mosquito flight round you

Looking for an opening
To attack you
While you sleep
The Russian way

Keep you off guard
Then get you
But not if we strike
And drain their pond

Spray them with insecticide
So they never breed again
No more Novichok
Or nukes or bio weapons

Finally we are safe
Except from our own
FECKING PARANOIA!!!

you are so self-centric
full of yourself
like we should worship you
we don't matter to you
only your wishes and aims
nothing more or less
you sell us like slaves
make a fortune off our backs
not caring if we love or hate you
you're oblivious to us
your image on all the magazines
your fame is number one
as you are number one
we are number zero
infinitely below you
you our boss who loves
all the cash we make you
from our blood sweat and tears
it has always been this way
the moon spider feeding
we food to the hunter
but we say enough!
this ends tonight...

he had someone special
he loved her so
she meant the world to him
he questioned why
they never met before
it would've been possible
for they lived on the same planet
they just never knew
that the other existed
but they know now
and will not ever part
not even when they fight
like crazy gunfighters
in some mad way

The readjustment was the hardest part
Not leaving the war zone
Or coming home back to his country
And to his wife and family and friends
But actually readjusting to the fact
That fact that he had no legs
He left them back in Iraq
Not as a war victim or injury
To a vehicle accident instead
His Hummer left the road and rolled
He was lucky to escape with his live
The medics took him to the hospital
It was touch and go but he made it
The army will pay for his recovery
And give him a pension
Plus a pair of tin legs
And keep him on the books
An advisory role for future wars
He did ok from his accident
But readjusting is still hard
This is his new normal...

By Craig J. Burt /Jimmy Boom Semtex
Are you ok?
Your brain's rattling like crazy
You're dancing like a ballerina
Twerkin around these crazy hot streets
You say why be a bore?
Life is a chore
Refuse to fade
Like a shadow of a doubt
Silver star filled skies
Shining proudly
Living freely & deep in love
We're no longer
Strangers tonight now
Sensational romantics
Loving devoutly

And the clatter of heels echoes
Upon concrete downtown Havana
Never had it so good or free
The Castros’ grip and communism fade
While we dance chest to chest
Thigh to thigh Lambada-esque
Los Lobos couldn’t be this cool
Nor move so ****** like you and me
For freedom for Cuba for us
This goes on and on
Like a whistling wind
Calling your name
Stop stop and listen
Do you hear it?