While those meat-eating hippies
get on my tits, you know
cos the grain the cattle’s eating
to human mouths should go
And when half the world is starving,
well, it really drives me mad
It’s not groovy, wild, or tasty
It’s just bad

And the anarchist in his armchair
gets on my tits as well
Cos he thinks he’s so much wiser
than every body else
But shouting at the telly
won’t change a fucking thing
Get out your seat, get on the streets and sing

Well, meat-eating hippies
and armchair anarchists
are not the world’s greatest problem, I admit
but I can’t resist poking fun
at such obvious hypocrisy
You’d never get a thing like that from me
Well, on second thought maybe

But the major label punk bands
annoy me most of all
Cos they’re tied to corporations
who trade in arms and war
And it’s hard to fuck the system
while you make that system rich
So stop the majors, find alternatives