On my face and tongue, this grub shits his dung,
And boy! I get so so mad.
Matter of fact, to be exact,
Reason my breath smells really bad.
But I eat them, I know it's lame,
When you can eat chicken.
But I'm dirt poor, live in a sewer,
This is what I get for cents ten.
Plus who am I going to kiss, no miss,
In the whole fucking drain.
Penetration fantasies rivet my thoughts,
Masturbation releases the pain.
A monk, or something, came by,
Talking about an invisible being.
I didn't see the logic, I'm kind of thick,
I told him in the sewer there was no king.
No king, yes, just us, with nothing,
Over-crowding the little space.
It's hard to believe in shit like that,
With shit right on your face.
