MUSIC KING MISSILE : Stream of Goofiness : John S. Hall writes hilarious lyrics and fronts a hot rock ‘n’ roll band that is coming to Isla Vista.

The Indians lived all over this land before we came and killed them. That was very bad of us. We thought we needed the land, but for the most part, we just ruined it anyway. And now nobody can use it. That’s the way we are. We’re pigs.”

So writes John S. Hall, guidance system of those New York rockers, King Missile. That’s his serious side, and it doesn’t last long. One of his songs, “Indians,” ends with a cockroach falling on the songwriter’s paper and getting squished.

Other songs deal with sweating pigs, dinosaurs, Scotland, the end of the world and almost any off-the-wall subject in between. One is called “The Boy Who Ate Lasagna and Could Jump Over a Church.”

Hall, the group’s lead singer, writes stream-of-consciousness lyrics that are up on the Goofball Scale with Daffy Duck or Mork. Hall has a hot rock ‘n’ roll band behind him and they all will be cruising through Isla Vista on Sunday night and doubtlessly will play tunes off the band’s fourth album, “The Way To Salvation.”

Although the lyrics are frequently hilarious, Hall himself seldom is, as he showed in an interview from his New York City home.

How could a band like yours, which does not sound a bit like Guns N’ Roses or R.E.M., release four albums or even get signed in the first place?

We were better known as a band than Guns N’ Roses were when we got signed to Atlantic. We were an indie band for our first three albums and 100,000 college kids knew who we were. We had a song off our last album called “Jesus Was Way Cool,” which was No. 1 on the college charts. We had something happening, and it was wise of them to sign us. Sometimes stuff like this sells.

Like pig songs? Is it true that pigs never sweat?

That’s not true. A teacher once told me that pigs wallow in the mud to cool off because they can’t sweat, but I think he was wrong.

Where did the name King Missile come from?

It came from a Japanese comic book. A friend of mine gave us that name.

How did you get started in all this?

In 1981, I was in this ‘70s cover band called You Suck, then I started King Missile . . .Our first single came out in 1983. We did a couple of albums that were very successful on college radio. We got signed to Atlantic on a Friday, went to the studio on a Monday, then Tuesday the Gulf War started. Now having done this, there are a number of directions I could take. Before, I didn’t think I had what it takes to make it in the record business. I’ve met a lot of brilliant people and a lot of incompetent morons in this business. I’m somewhere in between. If I can’t make a living off my art, I’ll make it off someone else’s.

What would be your dream gig?

It would probably be something like that (sprawling, genre-mixing) Lollapallooza Tour--that’s the way I’d like to do it. Every band is more or less equal, and I like the all-day festival idea. On the other hand, we wouldn’t be good opening for most of the bands I like.

A lot of your lyrics are really funny--is laughter the way to salvation?

Yeah, I think so. There are some ancient myths that the universe began with a god’s exhalation of breath or a burst of laughter. Yet people who laugh a lot have a lot of misery. Comedians are some of the most depressed people there are.

Is New York getting you down?

There is a certain amount of cynicism here. It’s like the world is going to hell so there’s a feeling in New York City of “let’s get on with it.” Even in a seemingly hopeless situation, there’s always something you can do even if it kills you.

So it’s just like “Midnight Cowboy” back there?

Well, when I’m full of despair, I usually write the most. I’m not getting too depressing, am I?

* WHERE AND WHEN

King Missile and opening act Rogue Cheddar at the Anaconda Theatre, 935 Embarcadero del Norte, Isla Vista, 685-3112, Sunday night, 8 p.m., $10.