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Oh! The hate that’s in their hearts! They’re tired of being pushed around and told just what to do. They’ll fight the world until london they’ve wonand love comes flowing through london Which is fine with me. The cloudy romanticism of the song’s social conception removes it from the limitations of any one faction’s Utopia, making it much more palatable than the vested-interest jams of a group like the Up (musical agitprop arm of the Ann Arbor Rainbow Peoples’ Party) or the dilettantism of a Jefferson Airplane, even if it does bear about london as much dialectical meat as Grand Funk singing "People Let’s Stop the War." (NEXT ISSUE: Bring Your Mother To The Gas Chamber—Part Two) Photos by Charlie Auringer YIP Index ACETYLCHOLINE TO CHRIST Eat me eat me fuck your mother Shove your cock into a rubber and shove it so far up your bum shove it there, beat your drum Slit your wrists cut your dick Touch it with a dirty stick Rub it gently on a wall slice it with an electric saw Shove it quickly up your ass lay it in some broken glass Rap it up like a birthday gift set it alight and scream out "shit!"
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