1. |
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Bright red lipstick warfare on a Sunday afternoon,
It was kind of boring when you kissed me in your room,
So look out now
Cause I'll bite my thumb, but I won't bite my tongue,
I may not be smart, but I'm sure not dumb.
I'm young and I'm snotty and I'm goddamn rude,
Look out, baby, I've got rattitude.
French fried, double dipped, sugar daddy pop,
Gimme a kiss, with a cherry on top,
Sunday nights and teenage blues,
You can bet your bottom dollar I've got rattitude.
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2. |
Rot in Hell
02:10
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Pardon me for asking, but do you know the way to Hell, my friend?
And pardon me for laughing, but did you hear that I am dying again?
Father, absolve my mortal sins
And take me now, amen.
Be my disciple, I don't read the Bible,
Let the exorcist begin.
Whoah, your breath is getting faster,
Come a little closer, Pastor,
We'll all die, anyway.
Hey, be my altar boy,
I've got some faith you can destroy.
In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost,
the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost.
Is this paranoia, or are those flames asking for me to come in?
The water may be warm, but, to tell the truth I don't know how to swim.
Father, absolve my mortal sins
And take me now, amen.
Be my disciple, I don't read the Bible,
Let the exorcist begin.
Whoah, your breath is getting faster,
Come a little closer, Pastor,
We'll all die, anyway.
Hey, be my altar boy,
I've got some faith you can destroy.
In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost,
Rot in Hell!
I confess to the distress of your clerical suit,
But don't lie, you can't deny that you enjoyed it too,
Your Ghost is a hoax and a story at most,
And you'll never get rid of your demons
Get rid of your demons.
Whoah, your breath is getting faster,
Come a little closer, Pastor,
We'll all die, anyway.
Hey, be my altar boy,
I've got some faith you can destroy.
In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost,
the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost.
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3. |
Planning My Funeral
01:04
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I dreamt there was a God and he fell down from the sky,
And he poisoned all my thoughts and exploded in my mind.
The gray matter it seeps from the holes in both my ears,
I lost my individualism, but I gained a lot of fears.
Now I'm stuck in a confession box, staring at the wall,
Counting down the days and planning my funeral.
Say another prayer, put gold coins on both my eyes,
Blind to logical decisions and refuse to compromise.
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4. |
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See original lyrics
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Poxy Burlington, Vermont
Poxy is a punk trio raised in Burlington, VT on the foundation of gender equality, with a no tolerance policy for macho bullshit.
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