He's got a fatal erection home in bed
He's really smart and he's really fast
He's got a high-tech killer fuck in his past
Saints preserve us and hide young stuff
The saving grace is a sonic pick-pick
Amazing, grazing, strange and raging
Flies are flailing through your brains
Spastic flailing, literally raising my rope
Elemento mental, mantle box explodes and music creates utopia
You null out my nerves, you weird and crush the cranking raunch
Flash, dirt, force field, lost and found
Let's burn your broken hearts
Self-satisfice unsliced, not yet sin
Let's scorch and wave a wig
Let's poke your eyes out
π΅ Ball-Hog Or Tugboat?
by Mike Watt Β· 1995-02-28
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