Vārdi: Babes in Toyland. Dust Cake Boy.

Woah, shoot
Oh yeah
Why don't you shoot?
Yeah, shoot, oh yeah

Indian Billy simple sin scratches across my
Skin, skin, skin, skin, skin, skin
Soft gravel scratches across my
Skin, skin, skin, skin, skin, skin

It ain't love, baby, that makes this martyr
Grin, grin, grin, grin, grin, grin
Simply sick, where Billy's
Been, been, been, been, been, been

Oh my soul
There's a hole
Oh, my soul

Sending psychic messages you can't even
Hear, hear, hear, hear, hear, hear
From my dumb mouth to your deaf
Ear, ear, ear, ear, ear ear

Sugar spit sentiment never even
Meant, meant, meant, meant, meant, meant
We've all dragged our Jesus hair
Around, around, around, around, around, around

Oh my soul
There's a hole
Oh, my soul
Dust cake boy, boy, boy

Woah he wavers me something
God he wavers me something
Woah he fucks real mean, mean

She screams out your name 'cause she sweats to be
Me, me, me, me, me, me
Has a crystalline cunt made of mint julep
Tea, tea, tea, tea, tea, tea

You're staring at something you're never gonna see
Take your small eyes away from
Me, me, me, me, me, me

Oh, my soul
There's a hole
Oh my soul
Dust cake boy, boy, boy

Woah, dust cake boy he fucks
Woah, he fucks real
God, he fucks real mean
He fucks mean, he fucks mean