Texty: Cuban Cigar Crisis. Sourpuss. Hilter Aviation Museum.

If you want me to go away
I will
and not come back another day
if you want me to play the crook
I will
you won't hear what i've got to say

I know you don't have a lot to dis
so you
pick on me for once
just get this through your head
I'm not
about pulling my Y fronts
down

down for you
down for her
or down for me
well, maybe down for me
the only thing i have to go by
is your constant lack of subtlety

nobody smiles
at me anymore
ever since you told them
I was such a whore

now i don't want to cause no harm
but you
try to pull everybody in
with your infectious charm
and venomous
feminism

I can think of worse ways
to
sooth white suburban guilt
but to me you still smell like
expired milk

nobody smiles
at me anymore
ever since you told them
I was such a whore

yo ching? con hitler
que importa?
yo ching? a hitler
que importa?
yo ching? a hitler
que importa?
yo ching? a hitler
que importa?

que importa?

right on my sister
your the victim here

(Thanks to Charles for these lyrics)