At 8, 9 or 10 it's about time to kill hare.
Got gut it, gotta kill it, gotta tell em "play fair".
Sniff remains then pass the scent he to me
2 billion bastards on they're knees now.
My shitlist is endless again
You bastards turn to flies now,
the shitheap needs friends now & then
12 noon's the deadline for the cute lil story.
Gotta gut it, kill it, spice the meat and give the writer glory.
Now lift the head up for the whole world to see.
Now mickey mouse will always hate my song can't you see.
I'll shout em from a bullhorn and still hafta pay a fee.
Just gimmie one chance, it's my only dumb dream
To help 2 billion bastards turn to fleas… please.