Some men need some killer weed, some men need cocaine Some men need some cactus juice, to purify their brain... Some men need two women, some need alcohol Everybody needs a little something but Lord, I need it all! Radio across the nation, killing us with radiation! Sometimes I dream of chicks to bring me everlasting joy... Sometimes I dream of animals, sometimes I dream of boys Sometimes I kill the living, sometimes I raise the dead Sometimes I say just screw it all and crawl back into bed! Radio across the nation, killing us with radiation! I give my brother money to buy some bread and honey - He puts on his cloaks and rags; He comes on home - totally stoned... He bought some nickel bags! I beat him up - society's corrupt! It's a social disease! The President and Parliament are vacationing overseas! Ripshit rampage! Blow the world to nothing! Ripshit rampage! Someone press the button! For days and days I never got a raise... I asked for one - I lost my job; Had a house but I was kicked right out Now, I got a bus stop! My brother's gonna cry 'cause he can't get high but there are other ways to leave the ground; He could take a plane but that would be insane ‘cause someone's gonna shoot it down! Ripshit rampage! Blow the world to nothing! Ripshit rampage! Someone press the button! My brother's only six, he's having sex - He's a one man show; Every radio station across the nation Never plays our rock 'n' roll! To put this hell to an end, we need a godsend, Life on earth can exist no more... When we die, no one's gonna cry For our teeming shore!

The band starts a-rockin’- a wolf is on the loose! His eyebrow’s a-cockin’ - he saw a nice caboose! Gets her on the dance floor, does a dirty boogie; No need to pay a whore at Kaziuko Muge! Because… It’s the fair of Little Casimir! Around the fourth of March, every year! Purchase a gintaras souvenir! Refresh yourself with an ice cold beer! People start to pack in -the band fills the venue! The wolf’s now attackin’ sausage on the menu! So easy to swallow - he won’t hock a loogie ; Who knows what will follow at Kaziuko Muge?! Because… It’s the fair of Little Casimir! Around the fourth of March, every year! Purchase a gintaras souvenir! Refresh yourself with an ice cold beer! Amber baubles, amber bottles, you bet we’re rockin’ role models! The band plays the last dance but Lady Luck beckons: “Your 50/50 Chance gets ya sloppy seconds!” Bartender shouts,“Last call!” - the wolf gives a noogie... That turns into a brawl at Kaziuko Muge!

Sally is sunflower blond, works at Bed, Bath and Beyond; Mary’s fro is midnight black, she’s a kleptomaniac! Pat’s hair is pomegranate, she’s from another planet; Apricot are April’s locks, heard her say “Steel Wolf rocks!” "Honey-hair" describes Heather, she’s always in tight leather; Charlene’s mop is champagne fizz, many split ends, lots of frizz… Alice is an almond cream, she’s chasing an acting dream; Cathy’s curls are caramel, there isn’t more to tell… All day I sit and wonder… not if man evolved from apes! Just how things are down under: Does the carpet match the drapes? Cindy is cinnamon red, she’s always high-spirited; Chamomile are Karen’s braids, she always got good grades… Martha’s mohawk has turned grey,I saw her the other day; Shelia’s head is clean shaven, I heard she’s misbehavin’!

A wedding is expensive - he’s at the end of his rope; It’s made him apprehensive - she says they can’t elope… Johnny, time for a show! Grab your guitar ‘n’ amp! Where do “can’t elopes” go? John Cougar’s Melon Camp! Melons oughta be heavy for their size... Gotta use your hands, gotta use your eyes! First comes love, then comes marriage Then comes a cantaloupe in the melon carriage! They’re happily married but he’s still singin’ the blues; He’s feelin’ so damn harried - honey don’ts ‘n’ honey do’s… Johnny, time for a show! Grab your guitar ‘n’ amp! Where can “honey do's” go? John Cougar’s Melon Camp! Melons oughta be heavy for their size... Gotta use your hands, gotta use your eyes! First comes love, then comes marriage... Then comes a honeydew in the melon carriage! He’s turned cold as a stone and rolls towards the egress... But she’s in no way alone... Too bad he wasn’t seedless! Johnny, time for a show! Grab your guitar ‘n’ amp! Where could seedless fruits grow? John Cougar’s Melon Camp! Melons oughta be heavy for their size... Gotta use your hands, gotta use your eyes! First comes love, then comes marriage... Then comes a seedless one in the melon carriage!

Two friends on a lawn, paper cups are drawn, Brandy is the reason; Take a couple sips, lick it from their lips, They're finding it quite pleasin'… Finish off a cup, fill it right back up, The cycle is repeated; But then who arrives? Their two lovely wives, Who feel that they've been cheated! Wives mean what they say When life gives 'em beets - they make borscht! Wives say what they mean Tonight, these guys sleep on the porch! Their drink's good 'n' gone but their thirst goes on, Hear em yell “Ooo-wee!”; Open up a jug, drink and give a shrug, Then ask "Is that Drambuie?" Take a couple swigs, sing “War Pigs” “Gen’rals in their masses…” Run for their lives, because their wives Are gonna kick their asses! Wives mean what they say When life gives 'em beets - they make borscht! Wives say what they mean Tonight, these guys sleep on the porch! In the dog days of summer the porch can be nice Drinking brandy from a paper cup… In the dead of the winter it’s covered with ice - That brandy warms you right up! Two wives on a lawn, paper cups are drawn Brandy is the reason; Take a couple sips, lick it from their lips, They feel they need pleasin'… Wives mean what they say When life gives 'em beets - they make borscht! Wives say what they mean Tonight these guys aint on the porch!

When the little bluebird who has never said a word starts to sing, When the little bluebell at the bottom of the dell starts to ring; When the little blue clerk in the middle of his work starts a tune... To the moon up above... It is nature that is all simply telling us to fall in love! And that’s why birds do it, bees do it, even educated fleas do it Let’s do it, let’s fall in love! Mosquitos, heaven forbid, do it... So does every katydid do it Let’s do it, let’s fall in love! The most refined lady bugs do it when a gentleman calls… Moths in your rugs they do it - What’s the use of moth balls? Some Argentines, without means do it People say that Boston beans do it Let’s do it, let’s fall in love! In Spain, the best upper sets do it Lithuanians and Letts do it Let’s do it, let’s fall in love! I’ve heard that lizards and frogs do it laying on a nice rock… They say that roosters do it with a doodle and cock! Cold Cape Cod clams, ‘gainst their say, do it Oysters down in Oyster Bay do it Let’s do it, let’s fall in love! Sure, sometimes on the sly you do it Maybe even you and I might do it Let’s do it, let’s fall in love!

Summer is the best season eating that which is pleasin’ - Wet clam ‘n’ big cucumber equals the greatest number! It’s the summer of sixty-nining… Though you go where the sun aint shining… You do enjoy some real fine dining… Every cloud’s got a silver lining! High noon, the fourth of July, hot dog ‘n’ hot apple pie Delights summertime snackers blowing off firecrackers! I want a first-rate hummer, can’t have an endless summer; Sweet end melts right in my mouth... Spend summertime way down south!

At the bank of dreams the night before Trouble came straight in from the cruel north… Makin’ those cool moves, holdin’ the wheel Robbed the bank of dreams, took all to steal… Drivin’ through the night that withdrawal keeps on burnin’ Bottled up inside, no deposit, no returning... Runs with a fury to velvet ends His girl knows the plot, they’re more than friends… Days without whiskey, nights without snort No one catch him on that old horse… Drivin’ through the night that withdrawal keeps on burnin’ Bottled up inside, no deposit, no returning... Mollie and Peter, shots in the air A clean getaway is really rare…oh, so damn rare!

Ben Franklin don’t care that you ate nine muffins last night, Work hard for your money all week so you got the right; You call a number from the back of the Village Voice, If you really need some lovin’, you aint got a choice… Got some money to spend! You buy yourself a friend! You pay extra to bend! It’s worth it in the end! Your co-workers are getting drunk at happy hour, They never call you ‘cause they think you don’t shower; You call a number you saw scrawled in the bathroom stall, If you want some golden lovin’ and a good time - Call… Got some money to spend! You buy yourself a friend! You pay extra to bend! It’s worth it in the end! Work was wonderful this week – you made a lot of sales, But you celebrate all by yourself with sweet cocktails; You call a number on a forgotten napkin scrap ‘Cause you really need some lovin’ before your night cap… Got some money to spend! You buy yourself a friend! You pay extra to bend! It’s worth it in the end! Got some money to spend! You buy yourself a friend! They got a tool to lend! It’s worth it in the end!

I told Al we should rehearse anyway. “How the hell we gonna do that? We’re just two of us. Half a band. Guitar and drums.” I responded, “Steve is coming over anyway to take pictures. He plays guitar. He can borrow my mom’s acoustic.” “Yeah, well...” I then added “Isn’t Chris coming down?” “What the hell is he gonna play? ” “I’ll give him my floor tom and he’ll be a second percussionist! We’ll all do some kind of half-assed vocals.” When I handed Steve my mother’s acoustic guitar he said he only knew three chords. Sweat dripped from our brows. It was hot as hell in my room but my mother wouldn’t allow me to open the windows when we practiced for fear of disturbing the neighbors. I replied to Steve with a smile, “That’s more than enough chords for a Steel Wolf song! Al, which one should we start with?” Al laughed. “Can we have some water? It’s like Africa in here! Look at the condensation on the windows!” The old windows were plastered top to bottom with rock band decals just as the walls were with posters and stickers. I ran downstairs for water and Al plugged his electric guitar into his homemade tube amplifier. It had two twelve-inch speakers encased in what appeared to be a wooden frame. The frame had black vinyl stapled to it. It looked like leather. Al sat upon it and the sweat that dripped out of his gym shorts made it shiny. A window screen was stretched over the front to protect the speakers. On the left side of the creation there was fastened a ridiculously oversized red light with a single input to the right of it, then a volume knob and a toggle switch with “On” written in black marker on top of it. It was a masterpiece. Besides its look, it had a unique sound as well. Everything Al played out of it had a low, machine-like hum beneath it. Good, bad or otherwise it was our band’s signature guitar sound. I returned with four glasses of ice water. Chris, Al’s friend, followed behind me. “Hey, Chris. You up for this nonsense?” “Sure, but you guys should open some windows in here.” Chris sat on my bed. On it was a quilt with what looked like hundreds of rock band patches on it. I took my floor tom and placed it in front of Chris and handed him a pair of mallets. “Shall I shove these in my ass? I don’t play drums.” “Well, Steve barely plays guitar. So we’re all even.” I replied. I got behind my now smaller drum kit. Steve had been sitting silently the whole time trying to positioning his fingers in an A chord on the acoustic guitar. “Alright,” I continued. “Al and Steve play A and everyone follow me.” I banged four counts on my sticks at a speed equivalent to the clicks of a just spun roulette wheel and proceeded to play a beat that a passerby would construe as a single-handed drum roll. Chris actually executed a pretty good drum roll of his own with the mallets on the floor tom creating a thunder-like booming beneath the crisp cracking and crashing sounds of my tight snare and cymbals. Al played at a similar lightning speed strumming his pick up and down, up and down, sounding like an angry wasp. Steve mimicked him. His enthusiasm made up for non-amplification. This cacophony went on a measure and then I slowed down just a tad and banged out four final counts on the snare and tom signifying the din to finally cease. “Good. Let’s try it again but this time when we stop I’ll shout out a single word at the top of my lungs and then count four again on the sticks and when we stop the next time, Al, you shout something-” “At the top of my lungs?” “At the top of your lungs and then I’ll count four again and then Steve will go and then Chris. Okay?” “What should we shout?” “Um…uh…shout…your favorite breakfast food!” Neither guitarist had continued playing the A chord. Steve simply couldn’t and Al realized it made no difference what notes they were playing anyway. My father then walked in and asked in Lithuanian, “Ar cia dainavymas?”, which means basically, “Is this music?” Although the song had a playing time for about a minute, the four of us became even hotter and sweatier than before due to the sheer physicality of our performance and the fact that we were playing in an unventilated bedroom the size of a walk-in closet. Upon returning from refilling the cups, I announced that the song be called A Complete Breakfast. I then reached for my recorder. “Let’s try it again!” A year later, Al and I, along with Ed, who had since returned to the band as bass player, found ourselves in the basement recording studio of a friend. We were in the process of recording our first demo tape. Although, we had plenty of other original songs to select from, as our final track we decided to record a version of A Complete Breakfast. We felt it would help give the overall feel of our demonstration tape a bit more of a jovial feel if we concluded it with such a lighthearted number. Later that summer, Al, Ed and I attended a Lithuanian summer camp in Massachusetts. The evening activities for the camp usually included a bonfire during which traditional songs and skits were performed by staff members and campers. I suggested we perform A Complete Breakfast. “What are you? Nuts?” Ed asked. “No, really. You have your acoustic and Al has his!” “We’ll need time to rehearse.” “Dude, it’s A Complete Breakfast!” After several more vodka swigs, Ed began liking the idea and then we came up with the idea of extending the song by having kids in the audience shout out their favorite foods for breakfast. “We could make’em shout out the foods in Lithuanian! It could go on for twenty minutes! But what about drums?” “Hey, man, we can use that big ol’ spaghetti pot they got in the kitchen and hit it with wooden spoons.” We went to sleep happy campers. The next night at the bonfire, we ran out and began explaining how this new song works. “We’re gonna play a few notes really fast like and when we point to one of you and ask “Ko tu nori pusryciams?” which means “What do you want for breakfast?”, you shout out your favorite food!” The three of us began the number, carrying on in the same manner that the song was originally written in: counting four and then playing at a furious tempo until the signal for stopping was given. Then, taking turns, we shouted out our own breakfast delicacies in Lithuanian at the top of our lungs. As I went around the campfire, kids eagerly jumped up and shouted out their favorite foods. The first few attempted to do it in Lithuanian but then when a couple of older boys threw in things that were harder to translate for them – like “Chocolate Waffles!” and “Pizza!”- many others began doing it in English as well. After the bonfire and on the way back from returning the big spaghetti pot and spoons, Al swiped a can of pineapple juice and some cups from the kitchen. The three of us sat in the woods and basked in the glory of our accomplishment. “That went over so well, man.” Al mixed up three vodka and pineapple juices and passed them around. “Cheers!” After, hearing the story seven more times and having as many cocktails, we chatted more about our demo tape and our hopes for playing in some real rock clubs. “Man, imagine doing A Complete Breakfast at CBGB!” That year, Steel Wolf performed at CBGB and A Complete Breakfast was included in our set. However, we never played it for quite some time after that show. Not intentionally, but just because other songs were written and they had taken its place. Interestingly, twenty years after A Complete Breakfast was first written in my small, hot bedroom, Ed and I drove to that Massachusetts camp to pick up our eldest children at the end of their very first summer of Lithuanian camp. We were able to attend the closing night bonfire and relive all the traditional songs and skits performed by the staff and campers. We sat on a log towards the back. The bonfire was in full swing when one leader yelled, “You know what time it is! Ko tu nori pusryciams?” Our jaws dropped. Four young girls equipped with only pots and spoons came barreling out. The leader counted four and then the quartet began joyously banging away until a signal to stop was given and then one of them ran up to a young camper and asked him what he wanted for breakfast the next morning. He yelled out “Pizza!” at the top of his lungs. Ed and I were flabbergasted. It certainly was music to our ears.

Growin’ up, growin’ weed Your parents never gave you money you’d need You begged your mom, you begged your dad Not to beat you every chance they had! You went to church, you went to school Your life was fucked up but you played it cool! You had no friends, you had no cash Your life was burning like a cigarette ash! Your parents never came to your graduation, Your friends never came when you’d call; Your sponsor never came to your confirmation... And you never came at all! Feel like I’ve been heavily boozin’ Livin’ life of total confusion It’s like some mad optical illusion I gotta find, gotta find the perfect solution! Got a girl, got a gun Now I’m gonna have some fun! The house is on fire! What should I do? Scrub my deck... We have a flat tire! Your mother’s a liar! Your dad’s on the wire! Born in a gutter, raised in another You don’t have a father, you don’t have a mother You tell your girlfriend “Gimme head!” Now her brains are filled with lead! Aural sects at gun point! See a nun and just for fun Whip it out, watch her run You tell her to suck it, she says she’ll just pull it Now the bitch bites the bullet! Aural sects at gun point! Everybody’s eatin’ your pubic beard Bury’em in Vaseline, man, you’re weird You got a gun to her head, she starts to cough Now the bitch bites it off! Aural sects at gun point! Your life’s been ridiculous You sucker for a real good time... Now you are dickless because You turned to a life of crime... Take it up the… Face the problem like a man! Take it up the… Spend a week on the can! You rot in a prison cell You’re lucky you’re not hangin’ by a rope! But you’ll only start to feel the hell When you bend to get the fuckin’ soap! Take it up the… Tho’ your insides’ll burn ‘n’ swell! Take it up the… And doncha use no KY gel! Problems come and problems go Make sure you just face them all head on... And inside you will start to grow Just remember this hole fuckin’ song! Take it up the ass! Doncha know what you must do? Take it up the ass! And for lubricant use crazy glue! Feel like I’ve been heavily boozin’ Livin’ life of total confusion It’s like some mad optical illusion I gotta find, gotta find the perfect solution!