Backside melts into a sofá
My world, my TV, and my food
Besides listening to my belly gurgle
Ain't much else to do
Yeah, I sweat a lot
Pants fall down every time I bend over
And my feet itch
Yeah, I married a scarecrow

I hate you
Talking to myself
Everibody's starin' at me
I'm only bleedin'

Someone taps me on the shoulder every 5 minutes
Nobody speaks English anymore
Would anybody tell me I was gettin' stupider?

I hate you
Talking to myself
You don't feel it after awhile
You take the beating

I'm a swingin' guy
Throw a belt over the shower curtain rod
And swing
Toss me inside a hefty
And put me in the ground

A drink needs me
I don't
I ain't about to guzzle no tears
So kiss my ass
Newscasters, coakroaches, and desserts

I hate you
Talkin' to myself
Everibody's starin' at me
I'm only bleedin'

Where are the kids? I don't know
Maybe getting pregnant or on drugs or on welfare
On top of the world, on the honor roll, on parole
On the dodgers, on the backs of milk cartons
On stakes in the middle of cornfields
On covers of future history books, on old lady's mantles
Walkin' on water, nailed on crosses
I think it's time I had a talk with my kids
I'll just tell 'em what my daddy told me
You ain't never gonna amount to nothin'

Composição: Faith No More