|
You're killing me with bacon, America, |
|
killing me with smog and taxes, |
|
Like axes in my neck, like hogs to the slaughter, |
|
what do I tell my daughters? Daddy's all heart |
|
but he's pushing a cart way downtown |
|
where the skin is brown and eyes are the size of the deficit? |
|
You're killing me with bacon, America, |
|
just like the indians with tobacco and flour and firewater, |
|
heroin scabs and rehabs, sick in the blood, |
|
face down in the mud, all hype and gripes, stars and stripes |
|
ain't my flag today. I want to belong, I want to be proud |
|
but your gay-bashing voices are so fucking loud. |
|
My choices are shrinking like bacon in the pan, |
|
the spatter of hot grease spitting like mad geese, |
|
bombers in Baghdad, I am a college grad |
|
but my life is a want-ad. |
|
You're killing me with bacon, America, how shall I pray, |
|
the old fashioned way? Down on my knees to the god of the weak? |
|
Or dick-deep in my squeeze, wearing a red rubber nose, clown clothes? |
|
Laughing as we cum and saying something stupid like... I love you |
|
One egg split two eggs, three makes it four legs, |
|
Why is it opposite? |
|
Anyone's sweater makes it feel better, wrapped up so tight in it |
|
One day is two days, three makes it always |
|
When is it going to fit? |
|
Everyone's laughter caught by the natter |
|
Weaving their web so glib |
|
*distorted lyrics* |
|
Four days fit five days, six ways to Sunday |
|
What if the world is shit |
|
One year splits two hairs, three inching war dicks |
|
Where is the love in it? |
|
Watch from the Rafters, he's running after |
|
Noise from a chickens tit |
|
Five days fit four days, six ways to Sunday |
|
What if the world is shit? |
|
*distorted lyrics* |