Songwriters: Barker, Paul G.; Washam, Reynolds; Jourgensen, Alien; Svitek, Louis James, Jr.; Scaccia, Michael R.
Yeah
You're down there shooting blanks from broken guns
You fire all day long and still not hit a fucking one
Don't wanna know what some sick [sniper(?)] fuck considers fun
Prob'ly throw a party, served melted ice cream over crumbs
Just crumbs
Just crumbs
You prob'ly lick more ass than anyone
I guess you like the taste of shit on your tongue
No matter what you order the same thing will come
A plate of refried shit just covered in crumbs
Just crumbs
Just crumbs
"I never had a life. I don't even know what life is."
"Have you? Have you? Have you?"
"I have what you'd call a life."
"Everday of my life."
"I have what you'd call a life."
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