Lyrics
Sinister spin,
The smell of despair passing as a grin,
The dank sarcasm of a mother-loving freak,
Wash-worn hands but flesh will always reek,
Burst the soap-opera bubble,
Kill the cat, kill the other,
Cackle toil and trouble,
Do you ever wish you had a brother?
She's a slave,
To the fetish grinding dentures on the lathe,
Her dead father's mucus trickles down,
Before summer she'll buy a replica crown,
Kick the beige car,
The beige habit for the sequin-loving star,
She's got to have it with the punch drunk creep,
Sell the sequins for the grave seven deep,
|