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
credits
from Disk Space,
track released November 10, 2015
Bill Beats: Production
MC-3PO: Lyrics and Vocals
C0splay: Vocals
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!
supported by 7 fans who also own “Diamond in the Rough (Fallout 4)”
The arrangement and the seriousness in which Beefy doesn't take things too seriously is where this record, and indeed all of his works have really shined. This isn't to say the passion and the love aren't there, because they are, in spades. This is a fun ride through the genre of Nerdcore and there is a level of innovation in Mr. Keith A. Moore that has been honed to a fine point with the hilt being as blunt and unapologetic as ever! Electric X