Stats for this track
In 1 Set
- 5 Tracks, 12.06
The truth hurts catch me laughing on the stretcher.
Mom's picture smiles up nervous from the dresser.
Word to the rill shrill laugh of Fran Drescher,
if you can't change your ass fudge the math to impress her.
The truth is that we're all a bunch of geniuses
unique snowflakes and phoenixes. My penis is
a perpetual motion machine a stream. This is
Word to the hostages honest miss I'm just on some Pocahontas shit.
White man kidnapped me to dance for his conglomerates.
I'm sicker than Vonnegut so go ahead and vomit with
the speed of sonic and the heat of a comet. Trick
daughters in the slaughter house bent off gin and tonic dick.
Hip schtick cuz the whiskey wouldn't do
I got frisky with a few, they kissed me and I chewed
my way through another heart. Spray tan graffiti on the mother's art.
Do my penance speedy when the druthers start.
Trying to fix the moral compass on my shiny metal hover cart and
we all want our 15 minutes of infamy.
So drop it to the floorboards and sin for me with sympathy.
I Don't want love I want shoves.
When push came I stiff armed with white gloves.
So tell me bout your major, all of your favorite flavors
here's some alcohol let's savor the sabbath before the seder.
I used to blow more lines than nervous actors,
in powder rooms servicing daughters of benefactors.
I'd upend them then forget to bend them back after
they'd be crawling on the ceiling like possessed kids pre-pasteur.
Nowadays I'm a brasher acid tabster
looking for faster fatherless bastards.
Pops is black as midnight.
Moms was alabaster.
Michael's in the middle playing fiddle with no master.
lusting busty actresses
bustin funky back flips with
no desire to pass the fifth,
Vomiting turns me into a pacifist
and home-girl's an activist
so imma go get after it.
After split quick, thorough as Henry David.
Fronting like life's a game even though I can't save it.