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par Faith No More

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Backside melts into a sofa
My world, my TV, and my food
Besides listening to my belly gurgle
Ain´t much else to do
Yeah, I sweat a lot
Pants fall down every time I bend over
And my feet itch
Yeah-I married a scarecrow
I hate you
Talking to myself
Everibody´s starin´ at me
I´m only bleedin´
Someone taps me on the shoulder every 5 minutes
Nobody speaks English anymore
Would anybody tell me I was gettin´ stupider?
I hate you
Talking to myself
You don´t feel it after awhile
You take the beating
I´m a swingin´ guy
Throw a belt over the shower curtain rod
And swing - - -
Toss me inside a Hefty
And put me in the ground
A drink needs me
I don´t
I ain´t about to guzzle no tears
so kiss my ass
newscasters, coakroaches, and desserts
I hate you
Talkin´ to myself
Everibody´s starin´ at me
I´m only bleedin´
Where are the kids?
maybepregnantorondrugs
oronwelfareontopoftheworld
donthehonorrolonparoleontheDodgers
onthebackofmilkcartonsonstakes
inthemiddleofcornfields
oncoversoffuturehistorybooks
onoldlady´smantleswalkin´onwaternailedoncrosses
I think it´s time I had a talk with my kids
I´ll just tell ´em what my daddy told me
YOU AIN´T NEVER GONNA AMOUNT NOTHIN´
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