| I said it three times, guess I’ll say it four
|
| I’m sad and sick to watch you devolve
|
| Your pen has gone gray
|
| The view has been walled
|
| And no one knows what you’re saying at all
|
| See-through skin — barnacles of age
|
| Male plague, male plague
|
| Old days misremembering
|
| Male plague, male plague
|
| You think the world gives you a stroke
|
| Male plague, male plague
|
| Fear of the future of losing your hold
|
| Male plague, male plague
|
| Hey figurehead, what you gonna do?
|
| Her truth moves too fast for you
|
| Hurled upon the stage
|
| The act has gone sour
|
| Sad sacks pickled in jars
|
| See-through skin — barnacles of age
|
| Male plague, male plague
|
| False news beamed right in
|
| Male plague, male plague
|
| Every boy wants to be a cop
|
| Male plague, male plague
|
| Punching down — you punch them out
|
| Male plague, male plague
|
| Everybody knows it’s gonna kill you some day
|
| Everybody knows it’s gonna kill you some day
|
| Everybody knows it’s gonna kill you some day
|
| Everybody knows it, tastes it, feels it
|
| Everybody knows it’s gonna kill you some day
|
| Everybody knows it, needs it, wants it
|
| Everybody knows it’s gonna kill you some day |