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by Death*Star

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It starts with a bang A boom, a rumbling of doom A mushroom cloud distilled into neutron perfume Who's at fault? We assume this assault will entomb us in wombs of basalt or in vaults if there's room Are we lucky? Oh, fuck me; no cover or ducking can buck trends of suck, we're tits-up in the muck Hey, a truck! Grab a rail and we'll roll down the vale out of hell into heaven; To Vault One-Eleven! Skip seven or so generations; the nations have fallen and all of our patience for stalling Has ended; my friends, it is time we ascended! To fend and befriend all those squalling and bawling in squalor; my two cents, on pretense, since I wince at the state of the dollar in currency's absence It's madness, but hey; hold the pity Get the dog and we'll trod all the way to the Waste's Walking City Oh we're goin'... we're goin' to Boston I'm packin' my suitcase and I'm sayin' so long 'Cause I'm bound for the town where the bottlecaps pave the ground We're goin' to Boston, we're already gone, we're already gone Be it barter or bullets or battery beams Choose your means, 'cause your suit's looking frayed at the seams And that vault's in the rearview of this sweet corvega Dragged dead in the ditch by that glitched-out bodega It's bottlecaps these days, I hear Pop open a Nuka, there's your change for a beer No more fussy facade of a bland vegetarian It's blood, battle, meat, like Grognak the Barbarian Didn't you used to read those old stories? Well, it's real now; keep watch for those wild cazadores Deathclaws and nightstalkers; so many ways to get dead It's depressing; hey, pick up that cool bobblehead! Pip-Boy says the Institute's on the horizon My dad's pal House once went there; hey, let's go surprise 'im! Like that dude's still alive, right? Shit, it's getting dark Make a camp, 'cause tomorrow we hit Fenway Park Oh we're goin'... we're goin' to Boston I'm packin' my suitcase and I'm sayin' so long 'Cause I'm bound for the town where the bottlecaps pave the ground We're goin' to Boston, we're already gone, we're already gone Don't bore all with more vault nostalgia again If I want flashbacks, I'll hit the Memory Den That place is back thataway, and we're way out here On the Constitution, floating over Paul Revere It's a long way behind us, don't pay to remind us There's no going home if the Enclave boys find us Neither Fat Boy nor Shishkebab pack enough heat If the synths catch our scents we're both ended, capiche? Diamond City's enough of a home for the nonce Tea parties at the shore with mutfruit and scones Sunbathing on the gold dome of the state house at noon While Three Dog howls intros when the Rat Pack boys croon I miss hot showers, oodles of clean water, tub wine But I've got Power Noodles, neat monsters, sunshine A little RadAway in my rum punch and I'm golden No gods, no masters; that's the life that I've chosen Oh we're goin'... we're goin' to Boston I'm packin' my suitcase and I'm sayin' so long 'Cause I'm bound for the town where the bottlecaps pave the ground We're goin' to Boston, we're already gone, we're already gone
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Production/Master: Bill Beats Rapping/Ruination: MC-3PO & C0splay
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Planet 02:18
Production/Master: Bill Beats & C0splay Rapping/Ruination: MC-3PO & C0splay
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Production/Mastering: Bill Beats Rapping/Ruination: MC-3PO & C0splay
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Good luck figuring this out

about

This was commissioned a long time ago, in a galaxy far far away...

A Kickstarter EP roughly 20 months later than expected. A combination of samples, synths, beeps, bloops, and blathering. The opinions and quality expressed in this EP do not necessarily represent those of the game makers, artists, story writers, fan communities or artists in this very band itself.

credits

released December 31, 2015

MC-3PO
Bill Beats
C0splay

Album Art by James Light

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Death*Star Kirkland, Washington

Death*Star is a nerdcore hip hop group from Seattle that regularly plays conventions, events, bars, birthdays, and pretty much everywhere else that will give them food, booze, cash, or attention!

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