The rotton bruise of infamy
The cancer of self-doubt
The incision of rejected love
The malady of roaming about
Consumes us all from day to day
As we pretend it's not
It hides under our beds
In our closets and in our hearts
And if we shove it out the door
Or if we lock it in our mind
It will come back all the same
Only worse than before
I want a coke
I want a coke
Morgan and Riley should go out
But I don't know what I'm on about
You should get a nice call from Nick
I'm sure you will; he's not a prick.
Have you ever looked around this room?
For me, it only means great doom.
Because here there was anatomy
Thank God from that I'm flying free!
But you're not, you poor loser girl
Mr DeBoer makes me nearly hurl
You probably too, he's scary
And he stopped drinking his cup of pee!
Since I should go, I surely will
I wish there'd be a fire drill
Then we'd get out of class early
And then I'd be dancing with glee!
SHOOP SHOOP
My room is full with only me
SHOOP SHOOP
Maybe hurt's the lonely key
SHOOP SHOOP
Penny Lane's a cold lady
SHOOP SHOOP
I am lost to just be me
SHOOP SHOOP
Cold biscuits with gravy
SHOOP YEAH
Please abandon your abase
Go away No more chase
I've got a rotton sense of touch
I want to kill my dream so much
Ooh, it's sour.
Aah, the news was bad
Claustrophobic catastrophy
A small town murder in a box
I love to make you mad.
Ooh, it's sour.
Yeah.
Shoop, shoop, shalala
I want something to gnaw
All I need is ground
Coffee, rye, is it found?
Is it sour?
Well, I once was uber grand
I wrote the songs for a rock band
They played and were famous
[talking] Aw, fuck.
Ooh, it's sour.
Yeah, yeah.
So sour.
[Marijuana...you call that addiction? I suck dick for crack!]