| A pig sweat-dripping
|
| Scratching his balls a male
|
| Since day one the lowest self-esteem, bound to fail
|
| Not a single word
|
| Small talk is done with a fist
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| Suicidal
|
| Heirloom shotguns and opened wrists
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| Talks like a stroke in slow motion
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| Feeling fine, not a day over dead
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| Drop-dead-ugly, f*cked up abortion
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| Shits while eats, same inside head
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| This is what northern men are made of
|
| This how northern men are made
|
| Hey honey, don’t care what’s your name is
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| Just one thing I crave, take off that dress, I’m your man
|
| Hey honey, flowers belong on graves
|
| I’ll drag you down in the shades of shame
|
| Nevertheless I’m your man
|
| Yes I am!
|
| A true self-loather
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| Head stuck tight in the noose
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| When given bottle
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| Sings his rueful blues through the booze
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| And them women
|
| Anything goes of course
|
| A masturbator
|
| Yet a long-time fan of intercourse
|
| Agora-xeno-homophobic
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| An ignorant redneck to the bone
|
| Home is where the vacant sty is
|
| With balls erected the seeds are sown
|
| This is what northern men are made of
|
| This how northern men are made
|
| Hey honey, don’t care what’s your name is
|
| Just one thing I crave, take off that dress, I’m your man
|
| Hey honey, flowers belong on graves
|
| I’ll drag you down in the shades of shame
|
| Nevertheless I’m your man
|
| Yes I am!
|
| Hey honey, don’t care what’s your name is
|
| Just one thing I crave, take off that dress, I’m your man
|
| Hey honey, flowers belong on graves
|
| I’ll drag you down in the shades of shame
|
| Nevertheless I’m your man
|
| Yes I am! |