I’ve got the gift of one liners
And you’ve got the curse of curves
And with this gift I compose words
And the question that comes forward
Are you perspiring from the irony
Or are you sweating to these lyrics
And this just in
You’re a dead fit
But my wit won’t allow it
The inside lingo had me at hello
And we go where the money goes
The inside lingo had me at hello
And we go where the money goes

I want someone provocative and talkative
But it’s so hard when you’re shallow as a shower
And from what I’ve heard with skin you’ll win

Her bone structure screams
“Touch her! Touch her!”
And she’s got the curse of curves
So with the combination of my gift with one liners
And my way
My way with words
It seems I’m too hip to keep tight lipped
And you’re on the gossip team
You’re making something out of nothing
And jealousy’s the cousin, the cousin of greed
The inside lingo had me at hello
And we go where the money goes
The inside lingo had me at hello
And we go where the money goes

I want someone provocative and talkative
But it’s so hard when you’re shallow as a shower
And from what I’ve heard with skin you’ll win

The Curse of Curves, Cute is What We Aim For

I had visions, I was in them;
I was looking into the mirror
To see a little bit clearer
The rottenness and evil in me.

Fingertips have memories
Mine can’t forget the curves of your body
And when I feel a bit naughty
I run it up the flagpole and see who salutes
(but no one ever does)

I’m not sick but I’m not well
And I’m so hot ‘cause I’m in Hell.

Been around the world and found
That only stupid people are breeding
The cretins cloning and feeding
And I don’t even own a TV

Put me in the hospital for nerves
And then they had to commit me
You told them all I was crazy
They cut off my legs, now I’m an amputee, God damn you

I’m not sick but I’m not well
And I’m so hot ‘cause I’m in Hell
I’m not sick but I’m not well
And it’s a sin to live so well

I wanna publish ‘zines
And rage against machines
I wanna pierce my tongue
It doesn’t hurt, it feels fine
The trivial sublime
I’d like to turn off time
And kill my mind
You kill my mind, mind

Paranoia, paranoia
Everybody’s coming to get me
Just say you never met me
I’m running underground with the moles (digging holes)
Hear the voices in my head
I swear to God it sounds like they’re snoring;
But if you’re bored, then you’re boring.
The agony and the irony: they’re killing me (whoa).

I’m not sick but I’m not well
And I’m so hot ‘cause I’m in Hell
I’m not sick but I’m not well
And it’s a sin to live this well
(one, two, three, four)

Flagpole Sitta, Harvey Danger