The tic begins where's the manned end?
The climate change will never get in
Silent and strong and prepossessed

You never need to make your own mess

Weasel to me

Charming to some
Loathsome and glib
Habits like self-love

Wearing slim fast you carve your niche
Lean smug back and work your pitch


And all the way I'm gone, no
Demon race to find
You paint it up and know that

Any face can lie

And all the way I'm gone, no

Demon race to find
You paint it up and know that
Any face can lie


Affect my greatest style, what
Suits me best of all

I keep my pocket filled, lean right and
Fall