Fuck your mother of fuck. Everyone's cracking up.
The guy on the telly said there's a storm brewing - everyone's fighting, everyone's screwing.
Sometimes it's who you know, a shot of gin and a line of blow.
You wanna get on?
It's the last locking door.
You'll get what you want and maybe, maybe some more.
Is that your wife on the phone asking when you'll be home?
White hot heat to snap-froze cold.
Bet you thought it'd all turn to gold.
I can hear you plead through the wall.
Keep it down, trying to score.
Again and again all the men that I know - why don't you just date a fucking boozy music loving fucking ho?
Cut to the chase.
You've got it written all over your face.
Cut to the chase.
You gotta fuck it off.
Fuck it off!
Fuck it off post haste!!