Black Helicopters

Above the backwoods of America!
Flyin' low over Manhattan!
Man, they're even up in Canada!
I tell you there's a patte'n!

Black choppers nabbing cattle!
Black choppers spraying gasses!
They're poisoning our livestock!
Chasing cars in mountain passes!

The Air Force doesn't own 'em.
The DEA won't lay no claim.
The FBI denies 'em.
They're coming just the same!

They're making guinea pigs of horses.
They're giving blackleg to our cows.
They're spreading evil viruses,
injecting mutigens in sows.

They're shooting passing motorists
I tell you it's a crime!
They're protecting ET terrorists
it happens all the time!

The government's made a bargain
with secret earth base greys.
They've been trading bovine plasma
for laser and death rays!

They're helping E.T.s abduct people,
so they can program all our genes!
Our DNA's mutating
before we hit our teens!

The government's in collusion!
We're dancing on puppet strings!
The E.T.s are making golems …
You gotta know these things!

There are no numbers on the choppers.
They swoop down in the night.
Snap you up and tag you
with some nasty parasite!

Aliens have got remote control,
program us through TV
that night time glow's
a blue pseudopod, you see.

It envelopes us like an amoeba,
grabs our couch spud eyes.
They tell us what to consume;
we spread their "truth" like flies.

They're terra forming the planet, man!
Melting the polar caps!
Pretty soon we'll all have cancer
and be taking our dirt naps!

We gotta get those mantis mothers
outta those smoked glass domes,
nuke 'em where they hover, man!
Protect our houses and our homes!

We gotta clean house, route out
those traitorous E.T. Arnolds
and put 'em in a carnival!
Get the sheep outta their folds!

Take control! Send those grey boys
packin' in their tea cups and saucers.
Yeah! We gonna clean up this planet, Janet!
It ain't no can! We can't just toss 'er.

We gotta get on top of the situation, see.
Ain't no Tweedledum or Tweedledee
gonna be runnin' the show for no E.T.s!
We're gonna kick ass, get ourselves free!

Gonna blast them choppers outta the sky!
Gonna pull those Ray Ban specs
off those geek geezers in D.C.!
Gonna get those pencil necks

Whoever the heck made this pact
with the E.T.s. We're gonna find
their underground bases and kick
their little skinny grey behinds!

Above the backwoods of America,
flyin' low over Manhattan …
Man, we're gonna kick yo' ass in Canada!
You won't know wha' happen'.

Find more by Richard Stevenson in the Author Index

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