There's something in the way you people smell,
Like you've got no soul at all,
Fingers crawling with ringworm,
Your sneer's a mating call,
To lure in others of your breed,
Spread that smug and slimy seed,
Borrow quotes from the culture,
Crowded like weeds.
Is your schedule sufficient tonight, you toad?
Hop another bar until the rooster crows.
This song belongs to you,
And all your crew.
This curse will sting the worst,
As it shall mar you.
I'd rather spend an evening giving birth
Than see how your eyes are glued on everyone but the person you're talking to.
Trapped between babushkas on a place is a fraction of how lame
It is to watch you pump the poison through your veins.
Is your schedule sufficient tonight, you crow?
Skwak another song until your heart explodes
You probably think this means I give up on you.
The saddest part is this is why I come,
To watch and pray that I'm mistaken,
And pray I'm not the only one
Not going to care about this
I'm knowing this is hopeless;
No one notices it
Not losing sleep over this
You people are unredeemable, indescribable, all but evil.
You know very well, what you are,
Don't let ‘em write you off.
You wear your scars,
I've had a few, but not that many
But you're the only one
Who gives me good and plenty
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