← Kembali
🎵

feelin' chicken

Album: Devil In My Details Durasi: 3:48

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

The stars and stripes ain't my flag today

I wanna belong, I wanna 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

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?