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Chernobyl Intentions

by Soviet Fourth Grader

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1.
Art School 01:27
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Can you count your broken dreams? Can you count your broken dreams? Can you count your broken dreams? 1234 Daddy likes to drink and scream Daddy likes to drink and scream Daddy likes to drink and scream Brian likes to skateboard Daddy found a drawing pad Naked bodies make him mad Art is for the bourgeoisie He beat him with the skateboard Teacher asked about the bruise Brian didn't tell the truth He said he fell but teacher knew He wasn't on the skateboard Art school, skateboard Daddy is a half-pipe, skate across his face Teacher called the CPS Teacher called the CPS Teacher called the CPS Brian rode his skateboard When they finally took his dad When they finally took his dad When they finally took his dad Brian wasn't sad Brian focused on his grades Then applied to out of state All the schools that daddy hates Brian went to art school Daddy watches from afar Brian painting birds on cars Loving art is a skateboard And daddy is a half-pipe Art school, skateboard Daddy is a half-pipe, skate across his face Can you count your broken dreams? Can you count your broken dreams? Can you count your broken dreams? 1234 No
2.
Election Year 03:06
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Fuck you Vote for this? Fuck no Suck my dick You want me to vote for you after everything you've done? I'd rather buy up some illegal arms and shoot myself with a gun I'll get them cheap from those oil wars you started, it's not hard to find one of those Or maybe I'll just steal it from any American home, but I gotta get there before you foreclose Take two road flares, label them D and R, and set your family on fire That, my friends, is American politics, and we're burning to death on its pyre Fuck your politics and fuck your elections, you're just animals trapped in a zoo People in the streets are being murdered every day and pretty soon they will be coming after you Oink, oink, oink go the piggies to the crowd If you step outta line they will beat you to the ground March, march, march go the soldiers in the street Gotta keep the status quo, make our voices obsolete Make our voices obsolete Make our voices obsolete I'm done Count me out Take two road flares, label them D and R, and set your family on fire That, my friends, is American politics, and we're burning to death on its pyre Fuck your politics and fuck your elections, you're just animals trapped in a zoo People in the streets are being murdered every day and pretty soon they will be coming after you Oink, oink, oink go the piggies to the crowd If you step outta line they will beat you to the ground March, march, march go the soldiers in the street Gotta keep the status quo, make our voices obsolete Make sure history repeats Gonna grind us into meat See us dying in the heat And they're stopping our heartbeats I have blisters on my feet
3.
The Homosexual Agenda 01:39
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Now I lay me down to sleep A load of bullshit at my feet If they murder me tonight Expose their evil book of lies Mega-nun, on the run, taste of sainthood on thy tongue Make us suffer, make us pure, virtue is the only cure Here to make the sinners pay, you hate the blacks and Jews and gays But pedophiles all get jobs where little boys will slob their knobs If we do not pay our tithe, you want to put us to the knife But soon the truth will be revealed, all the livelihoods you steal We'll spin your crosses upside down, throw our shackles to the ground We won't take it any more, you're gonna lose the culture war Human sacrifices are going on today They may not even kill you, but they'll take your life away Now I lay me down to sleep A load of bullshit at my feet If they murder me tonight Expose their evil book of lies Mega-priest on the run, taste of Satan on thy tongue Found out your life has no worth, guess that's why you salt the earth Can't get married if you're queer, no abortions anywhere Pleasuring your dick is bad, I guess it must make Jesus mad Women are just property, do not kiss them where they pee That stuff is for little boys, priests will use them all as toys Separate the church and state, maybe we can stop the hate Start to fix our broken home before we're Beyond Thunderdome Human sacrifices are going on today They may not even kill you, but they'll take your life away Tell the people, tell the press Never give up, never rest Someday everyone will see We won't stop until we're free Now I lay me down to sleep A load of bullshit at my feet If they murder me tonight Expose their book of lies
4.
Police State 02:01
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Oh, helloski I am, how you say, Russian guyovich and this is the Police State It is time for searching of your cavity? Something says yes Oh no, it's okay Just relax, it'll all be over soon This is where you start to run When man in blue pulls out his gun Police have come to shoot you down Only 'cause your skin is brown Do you have your papers, comrade? Have you paid your bribes? No? A state of and for police Is a state that needs to Breakout Breakout They can lock you in a cell There's no one they have to tell Police have come to lock you down But only 'cause your skin is brown Do you have your papers, comrade? Have you paid your bribes? No? A country full of secret jails Is a state that needs to Breakout Breakout
5.
Hypodermic Shadows 02:13
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Have you seen the ribbons? The kind that shoot out That shoot out of junkies From eyes and mouths Ribbons reach out and come alive The kind that won't wrap presents Siphoning life and stealing things A thousand hells for heaven Hypodermic shadows sting you in the night Pierce your skin and drain the vein and fill it with moonlight Hypodermic shadows sting you in the night Pierce your skin and drain the vein and fill it with moonlight Junkie Jackie Ribbons Lone-wolf burglar force Robbed the Golden Fang So they drowned him in horse Hypodermic shadows sting you in the night Pierce your skin and drain the vein and fill it with moonlight Overdose in overdrive Gain pushed to the top Tubes are overheating Till your heart just fuckin' stops

about

First EP from Soviet Fourth Grader

credits

released November 9, 2016

Anatoli: music, lyrics, mixing, mastering
Konstantinos: lyrics, mischief, moonshine, blastering

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Soviet Fourth Grader Missoula, montana

We first made music with dead herring against septic tanks at national production facility of Stanislavia! Now government money from America buys us all kinds of artist equiptment for making our premium music. You like!

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