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NOFX
NOFX


Background information
Origin Los Angeles, Southern California, United States
Genre(s) Punk Rock
Ska punk
Melodic Hardcore
Hardcore Punk
Years active 1983—present
Label(s) Fat Wreck Chords
Epitaph Records
Website Website
Members
Fat Mike
El Hefe
Eric Melvin
Erik Sandin
Former members
Dave Allen
Scott Sellers
Scott Aldahl
Dave Casillas
Steve Kidwiller



Music World  →  Lyrics  →  N  →  NOFX  →  Albums  →  Punk In Drublic

NOFX Album


Punk In Drublic (1994)
1994
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. . .


Possessions never meant anything to me
I'm not crazy
Well that's not true, I've got a bed and a guitar
And a dog named bob who pisses on my floor
That's right, I've got a floor
So what, so what, so what?
I've got pockets full of kleenex and lint and holes
Where everything important to me just seems to fall right down my leg
and on to the floor
My closest friend linoleum
Linoleum
Supports my head, gives me something to believe
That's me on the beachside combing the sand
Metal meter in my hand
Sporting a pocket full of change
That's me on the street with a violin under my chin
Playing with a grin, singing Giberish
That's me on the back of the bus
That's me in the cell
That's me inside your head
That's me inside your head
That's me inside your head

. . .


breathe
ever so soft
we wouldn't wanna break the eggs as we walk
never alone
cautious afraid
I hear the voice of reason on the P.A.

leave it alone
follow the grain
we couldn't stop the irresistable force
leave it the same
change with the leaves
bringing in the sheaves, bringing in the old
leave it alone

dananananananana
dananananananana
dananananananana
dananananananana

breathe
ever so slight
we couldn't take away your god given right
leave it alone, heel and stay
roll over and shake and beg for the bone
leave it alone

dananananananana
dananananananana
dananananananana
dananananananana

. . .


rationalize values it's so easy to succeed.
keeping your eyes on the prize excess.
success.

camped outside laissez faire.
people understand me there.
don't talk to me we'll get along just fine.

blowin' out your mores.
henry ford tradition preys.
on idle minds left the emergency brake on too long.
underneath the city lies the ruins of mankind.

the excavation was a financial.
success with artifacts of gold.
the arrowheads went straight to the smithsonian.
the rest was melted down and sold.

substantial gains.
minimal.
losses are tolerable.
as long as the machine keeps running fine.

cannibals.
functioning on pheromones.
rational thought lost to instinctual.

. . .


It isn't for the money, no it isn't for the fun
It's a plan, a scam, a diagram
It's for the benefit of everyone
You gotta have a little respect
Subterranean ideals
Traditional neglect
Reflect on how it makes you feel

The cause - We're just doing it for the cause

No it isn't for the fortune, it isn't for the fame
It's a scheme, a dream, a barterine
We want everyone to think the same
Because you know what you know is right
And you feel what you can't ignore
And you try so hard to point the blame
Ashamed - What are we doing this for?

The cause - We're just doing it for the cause
The cause - We're just doing it for the cause

Open your eyes, don't trust these lies
What are we doing this for?

The cause - We're just doing it for the cause
The cause - We're just doing it for the cause

. . .


Don't call me white! (4x)

The connotations wearing my nerves thin
Could it be semantics generating the mess we're in?
I understand that language breeds stereotype
But what's the explanation for the malice, for the spite?

Don't call me white! (4x)

I wasn't brought here, I was born
Circumcised, categorized, allegiance sworn
Does this mean I have to take such shit
For being fair skinned? No!
I ain't a part of no conspiracy, I'm just your average Joe

Don't call me white!(4x)

Represents everything I hate
The soap shoved in your mouth to cleanse the mind
A vast majority of sheep
A buttoned collar, starched and bleached
Constricting veins, the blood flow to the brain slows
They're so fuckin' ordinary, white
Don't call me white

We're better off this way
Say what you're gonna say
So go ahead and label me
An asshole 'cause I can
Accept responsibility for what I've done
But not for who I am
Don't call me white

Don't call me white! (2x)

. . .


For you my heart was yearning,
and how I love you so.
It's because of you,
my dick is burning,
it's dripping on my tongue.

. . .


Even if it's easy to be free
What's your definition of freedom?
And who the fuck are you, anyway?
Who the fuck are they?
Who the fuck am I to say?
What the fuck is really goin on?

How did the cat get so fat?
Why does the family die?
Do you care why?
'Cause there hasn't been a sign
Of anything gettin' better
In the ghetto

People's fed up
But when they get up
You point your fuckin' finger
You racist, you bigot
But that's not the problem
Now is it?

It's all about the money
Political power is takin
Protecting the rich denying the poor

Yeah, they love to watch the war from the White House
And I wonder how can they sleep at night?
How can they sleep at night?

How did the cat get so fat?
How did the cat get so fat?
How did the cat get so fat?
How did the cat get so fat?

. . .


Friday night we'll be drinkin' Manashevitz
Goin' out to terrorize goyem
Stompin' shagitz, screwin' shicksas
As long as we're home by Saturday mornin'
Cause hey we're the Brews
Sportin' anti swastika tattoos
Oi Oi we're the boys
Orthodox, hesidic, O.G. Ois
Orthopedic Dr. Martins good for
Waffle making, kickin' through the shin
Reputation, gained through intimidation
Pacifism no longer tradition
Cause hey we're the Brews
Sportin' anti swastika tattoos
Oi Oi we're the Brews
The fairfax ghetto boys skinhead hebrews
We got the might, psycho mashuganas
We can't lose a fight, as we are the chosen ones
Chutzpah driven, we battle then we feast
We celebrate, we'll separate our milkplates from our meat


. . .


The quass......

. . .


Dresser drawers are filled with pocket change
coupons cut, cigarettes smoked down to the butt,
is this what dreams are made off!

Adding up subtracting down you find
yourself sucking the rind

DYING DERGREE, GRAYING AMIE

Final payment made - Had you forgot?
The rightfull owner of one deluxe cemetary plot
paisley satin lined how appapoe
what a better way to go

DYING DEGREE, GRAYING AMIE

No more eating crumbs
when my pension finally comes
you kids won't eat mush anymore 'round me

DYING DEGREE, GRYING AMIE

. . .


My father used to say
You sleep with dogs the next day
You'll wake in the bed scratching
Those inevitable fleas
At ten years old
You listen to what you are told
But I never felt the itch
I never would
My mother had forbidden me
To waste away my life
I want you to have all the things I could never buy you
So don't stop what I'd begun
You're my one, my only son
Follow what I say not what I've done
Follow what I say not what I've done
Shower, scrub, and shave
Cleanly boys don't misbehave
Follow what I say not what I've done

. . .


Lori Meyers used to live upstairs
Our parents had been friends for years
Almost every afternoon we'd play forbidden games
At nine years old there's no such shame
It wasn't recognition of her face, what brought me back
Was a familiar mark as it flashed across the screen
I bought some magazines, some video taped scenes
Incriminating acts, I felt that I could save

"Who the hell are you to tell me how to live this life?
You think I sell my body, I merely sell my time
I ain't no cinderella, I ain't waitin' for no prince
To save me, in fact until just now I was doin' just fine
And on and on...
I know what degradation feels like, I felt in on the floor
At the factory where I worked long before
I took control, now I answer to me
The 50k I make this year will go anywhere I please
Where's the problem in that?"

. . .


Don't wanna chill, don't wanna sit
Don't wanna hear no hippie shit
Don't tell me I'm closing my mind
Don't wanna grove, don't wanna dig
Don't wanna spend the day naked
Don't like my music country fried

He's got a tye dyed Rancid shirt
Wears his birkenstocks to work
Is he a jerk? No, just confused
Jeff don't wear regular shoes

Fat Mike I gotta let you know
It's not the tunes, it's their live show
And all the people you get to meet
Plenty of good vibes and decent drugs
Stinky people give you hugs
Walk around in your bare feet

He's got a tye dyed Rancid shirt
Wears his birkenstocks to work
Is he a jerk? No, just confused
Jeff don't wear regular shoes

Jeff don't wear regular shoes

. . .


Crazier than GG, yet more PC than Ian
Got colored teeth like Johnny
Exudes a Vicious disposition
His hair sticks out like Colins' did, he jumps
Similar to Springa, yeah, he points his middle finga
Not just a singer in the band
Voted biggest asshole and role model of the year
Got a face like Charles Bronson
Straight outta Green Bay Wisconsin
Not just a singer in the band
He'll puke on you, he'll fuck your mom, he'll smoke while pumping gas
He was the punkest mother fucker I ever did see
Hell he was even more punk than me
He should've been on the cover
He should've been on the cover
He should've been on the cover of Punk and Disorderly

. . .


He's just a man getting through life the best he can
He's a not a scientist, he programs a computer
Before that he sold cars to pay a student loan now he receives pity
From his family - his friends say how could he
Turn his back on on reason worshipping
A God finding truth through fear and mind control
He's just a man trying to explain how
He found the word of God could make his life seem less insane
So he shares what he's read, what he understands, it makes
sense to him, it makes perfect sense to him, in fact
He's never seen so clearly
Turned his back on free will - has he lost his mind?
He'd rather kneel down than take charge of his life
And he knows what people think, but it dosen't sway him
He can read the writings on the wall
'Cause he knows how people treat, how they treat each other
A sacrifice to benefit the all
Don't try to judge him, his theological ideas
His hopes may be false but his happiness is real
Don't try to judge him, he's just a man


. . .


reeko, try to understand, it really is that bad
it won't just go away, the party's over
it's past two o'clock, so it's about time we
stopped, 'cause I
see the keg has been sucked dry
the cisco was emptied into the aquarium
where the fish all seem to play the ex lax lines
the dog bowl
the toilet's overflowed, we're had our fun so
now there's nothing left to damage
we got no place left to go
mr. President please understand, it really is that bad
it won't just go away, it's just beginning
the ballots have been cast, we make like seaward rats
leave this sinking ship, leave and not look back
the things we never tried to disallow
have come back to haunt us now
with apple pie and Chevrolet
we've come to see the end, we all made this bed
now we got nowhere to lay,
dies and gentlemen
try to understand

. . .


Gigin alone at the bottom of the hill
Our protagonist named Bill
Sets his sights on an anchor steam pint
All he, needs, is thirteen quarters
Congregated in his hat

A crow, a scavenger type
California redemption, provides him with his rent
Room and board inside of, a fifth, of comfort
As the wind penetrates his bones
His mind keep focused
Tidal waves of sound catapulted
From his horn, wail like lovers

The coins don't drop consistent as does the mercury
His meter slows realizing, a zenith
He's reached perfection
No one did see him die

. . .


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