| But I say what I mean and I mean every fucking word
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| I’m sick of listening to narrow minded pricks bumming third rate bands
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| They’ve all got shit on their dicks
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| When you try to get posh the meaning gets lost, so I’m thinking inside the box
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| They say that we sound like these bands, have they heard our CD?
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| Even though we’re in the mags, it’s still not good enough for me
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| They can keep their reservations, unconstructive criticisms — I just can’t take
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| them
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| Where’s your band?
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| So now you’re trying to get on guestlist?
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| Come on fellas, pull the other one!
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| I c-c-can't believe the games you’re playing, after all that you’ve been saying
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| How do you do? |
| My name’s Mike and I make music I like
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| Believe me my friends, I don’t want to offend
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| But we put time and thought into these songs no one got
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| You’ve got the cheek to say that we’re a covers band
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| With your headphones on and Gallows' dick in your hand
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| You sit behind a desk in an office all day long
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| Mouthing words wrong to old Metallica songs
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| Where’s your band?
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| Genre must be hard to distinguish with only a GCSE in English |