| Get in the oven, young cousin
|
| If your pupils dilate wide
|
| Bearing your rufie and your butter-knife member
|
| Wearing their scalps and hides
|
| Don’t put your hands on her
|
| Don’t read your poetry
|
| Because it’s worthless and it’s didactic to me
|
| Shave off your handlebar, stitch you to the car
|
| I’ll sell your organs off for tuition
|
| So you better get her home by 11:30
|
| Yeah you better get her home by 11:30
|
| I’ll take a look at your parents
|
| And scour your DNA for your disease
|
| So you can beg me or bite down
|
| Your hollow words mean nothing to me
|
| Don’t blame your alibi
|
| Don’t sing your poetry
|
| Because you found the lion deep inside of me
|
| You are American
|
| Raised to bow and pray
|
| Before the ivory palace where you lay
|
| So many fish, so many fish
|
| I’m gonna eat you raw
|
| So many fish, so many fish
|
| I’m gonna eat you, I’m gonna eat you |