Son of a gun and knife and bomb
Son of a (*##$ earned every stitch
Son of a father's son

Yes I know I'm one
Now it's time to pull the switch


Touch with your eyes drool
With my eyes
Touch with your mind drool

With my mind
Touch with your eyes drool
With my eyes

Touch with my mind drool
With your eyes


!@^*smanship and sales
Filtrate shoulder blades
And things concave

And every smile that marks a lie
Dressed in silk and flavored milk
Bred in bone and finely honed

To always sell what we can't own