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Lyrics for 'Dear Abby' by 'Dead Kennedys'
Dear Abby,
Got A Problem. I'm A Decent, Underpaid, Hardworking County Coroner. It's
Important That My Family Eat Meat At Least Three Times A Week. But We Just Can't
Afford To With The Prices The Way They Are. So I Bring Home Some Choice Cuts From My
Autopsy Subjects. Just Mix In The Tuna HelperĄand Ta-da!
The Whole Family Thinks My New Meals Are Delicious. They Ask Me What's
My Secret. Abby, I Think They're Getting Suspicious. My Smart-ass 8-year-old Keeps
Asking, "where's All The Meat? The Red Dye #2 Kind That's Kept In The Fridge."
If They Find Out The Truth I Don't Think They'll Understand. Abby, What Do I Tell
My Family?
Dear Reaganomics Victim: Consult Your Clergyman. Make Sure The Body's
Blessed And Everything Should Be Just Fine.
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