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"This is Deluxe and in today's topic, we'll be discussing sunsets, string beans and more particularly women's most dreaded inner conflict: PMS" |
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Faced to the blank of the white paper |
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My beans are boiling its an hearthquacker |
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See hot sauce drowning is the sensation |
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Of my body rocking UP and building in tension |
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It burns my flesh and steals my sleep |
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Razzles my bones within real deep |
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Fully conscient but still there's nothing to do, i'm plainly ill |
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Razing the crowd with a pink fister |
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Beast on the lose, its a Ballbreaker |
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Cockroach crawling UP and DOWN mansion |
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This is but a major z transformation |
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Cussing it out through dem blue teeth |
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A minute to laugh. Ten to go weep |
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Monsterocious appeal, there's nothing to do i'm plainly ill |
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Bleed on |
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Cure that syndrome |
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That Silly syndrome |
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Bleed on |
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Going on a number 4 |
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I declare hormonal war |
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And gently turn into a dark witch |
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You can ring the danger red alarm |
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Her loins are 'bout to spit an arm |
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Confiscate the mike from the ditch |
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I'll dully lie |
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And contemplate the wreck I so despise |
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The guilty tension it implies |
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Cant seem to let the feeling die |
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so Bleed on |
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Cure that syndrome |
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that Silly syndrome |
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Bleed on |
