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Dear Abby Lyrics
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 Helper:and 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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