Toxic Hydro Cult is an American crossover thrash band from Los Angeles, CA
Toxic Hydro Cult is an American crossover thrash band from Los Angeles. The band mixes elements of hardcore punk and thrash metal, with lyrics that are often humorous and politically incorrect
Lyrics
(Verse 1)
Sand in my boots, sun in my eyes
Another damn day, beneath these burning skies
Humvees are rumblin', AKs are singin'
But there's one damn thing that keeps my spirit swingin'!
They say it's a war zone, a hellhole of hate
But I found a slice of heaven, sealed by Saddam's fate!
(Chorus)
HOOTERS! In Fallujah! Yeah, you heard me right!
Titties and wings, shinin' ever so bright!
Forget the insurgents, forget all the strife
Give me some Buffalo sauce, and a taste of that life!
HOOTERS! In Fallujah! It's a goddamn dream!
Better than any medal, or a high-falutin' scheme!
(Verse 2)
We're rollin' through the markets, dodgin' IEDs
But my mind's on the blondes, with their D cups and ease
My buddies are sweatin', lookin' pale and drawn
I'm thinkin' 'bout cleavage, 'til the break of dawn!
The locals are starin', with a look of surprise
They ain't never seen nothin' like those frosted mugs rise!
(Chorus)
HOOTERS! In Fallujah! Yeah, you heard me right!
Titties and wings, shinin' ever so bright!
Forget the insurgents, forget all the strife
Give me some Buffalo sauce, and a taste of that life!
HOOTERS! In Fallujah! It's a goddamn dream!
Better than any medal, or a high-falutin' scheme!
(Bridge - Tempo slows slightly, riff becomes more sludgy and menacing, with a guttural vocal growl)
Some say it's blasphemy, some say it's a sin
But when you're this far out, you gotta let the good times win!
We're fightin' for freedom, for this damn red, white, and blue
And a cold beer and a breast is the least that is due!
So raise up your glasses, you sons of bitches all!
To the girls in orange shorts, standin' ten feet tall!
(Guitar Solo - Fast, chaotic, full of whammy bar abuse and shredding, mirroring the intensity of battle)
(Chorus)
HOOTERS! In Fallujah! Yeah, you heard me right!
Titties and wings, shinin' ever so bright!
Forget the insurgents, forget all the strife
Give me some Buffalo sauce, and a taste of that life!
HOOTERS! In Fallujah! It's a goddamn dream!
Better than any medal, or a high-falutin' scheme!
(Outro - Song speeds up again, a final blast of chaotic energy, then ends abruptly with a cymbal crash and a feedback squeal)
HOOTERS! FALLUJAH! YEAH!
(Fade out with a final, distorted guitar chord)
