I think I've lost my mind
I see inverted hips
I'm manic with a laundry list
Wild and wilder trips
I may not be on earth
When I have fancy thoughts
They come out furious and fast
But they're all I've got
I really have merit, I think
But a poor and impoverished chef
I have hundred fools around
With decibels to drive you deaf
No-good, rustic, lying idiots
With a shoddy moral kit
Their mouths are lodged in their ass
Eating their own smelly shit
I hope they aren't infectious
I'll hate to catch tomfoolery now
Once infected you're conceited
You think you're better somehow
It's a pandemic of idiots
Of every size and shape
Multiplying faster than germs
There's no easy escape
Worse is, they have chairs
They control the state
I think I'm better off mad
Than this other obnoxious fate
