| Song | Greengang |
| Artist | The Legendary Pink Dots |
| Album | The French Collection |
| Drowning in dog stew and strangled in vine. Blister wine | |
| burns the inside . . . (They flew in a line over poppy fields. | |
| They'd drop and they'd blast their supply. On demand! | |
| They persist. They pervert. They command: \"RED alert.\" | |
| And green burns to yellow, to orange, to dirt covered | |
| baby bones in powder piles. Mile after mile. And a | |
| line costs a dime. A slaughter's a quarter. Yes, the | |
| Green God's immortal, whispers \"Peace in our time.\" RED alert! | |
| Here come the Green Gang . . . . |