| Creeping in the bushes, spying on old ladies
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| He’s a trembling psycho
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| Fingering his wallet, drooling like a baby
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| Waiting for the homos
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| Prancing all around in a garter belt with panties
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| Remembering the Catholic school girls
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| Rope and leather handcuffs hanging on the bedpost
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| Ready when he’s home from work
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| Nipple clamps, a gold cock ring
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| A ball gag muffles up the screams
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| He brings them home, he tries so hard
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| But they always seem to leave
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| Pervert at large
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| He’s sitting counting numbers, hands on clock move backwards
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| Sweating in a suit and tie
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| Magazine is open, Touch Of Pleasure circled
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| The number’s burning in his mind
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| Humping up and down in a garter belt and panties
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| Thinking of the Catholic school still
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| She’s in the hallway, gives it up and smiles
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| She pretends she’s Daddy’s little girl
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| Rubber skivvies, prick in hand
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| He’s got four fingers up his ass
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| He’s sick of hanging out at bars
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| 'Cause they never understand
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| Pervert at large |