Aged 13 years

My brain’s burnin’, wakin’ up,
it’s the middle of the night,
I’m looking for a clue
on the bottle by my side.

Drinkin’ my beer
I drink all the comin’ day,
then jump out of bed,
Fart, and say OK.

Every night’s a battle
against two bottles or more:
it’s weird ‘cause I already know
who’s gonna win.

No matter the big ring
around my shaky head;
now I gotta feed the monkey
on my back (instead).

When I'm old enough
I'll tell my children true
“May you never be
like your daddy has been.

Study, work and find
a nice and clever one,
not like I did:
just playin’ around and gone”.

Sturmelin' my beauty wife,
dartialin' the bottle side,
I will think like Mr.Hyde
when he blips his little kynt.

Playin' it I feel the groove,
and my big slopp starts to move.
When my lady licks my loup
always, Jim is on the roof.

Dancing the un-sensed rock,
If you sirdh muffins, with yorshining, suck my cock.

Jabberwocky always hear
that my silfy has a fear:
I dunno about this year
but I'm sure I'l mineagear.

Study "Table's on the cat"
that's the law of hermin yet;
I will sboosh your sister, bet
and you will lose like woobish Jet.

Dancing the un-sensed rock,
Like mama said "when u comin' - come in socks".

Burnin' my prayers' book
I hope the moosin looks
like a simyanic hook
in a tryin' hillin' dook.

If you've no beer - drink water!
If you've no me - fuck rother!
And if you see some other
you can start to touch my gother.

Dancing the un-sensed rock,
Vous connaissez le beau garçon qui de vous se moque?

I'll tell y'all my story,
the life of a poor Christ,
so lend me yourn attention,
leave you coke, cut on yourn ears.

Yonder in Alabama,
a land of simple folks,
there was a bro’n’sis
that done decide to have some fun.

My momma was the daughter
of the grand Mayor Stu,
and when she married poppa
they got a house, but one on wheels.

'Bout to nearin’ seven,
I was fixin' to start school,
but poppa needed hands
to hunt our precious ‘coons.

Y'all talkin' to the White Trash Family.
Too white, too stupid:
we keep it in the family!
Give us a coon and we’ll be happy.

At a family reunion
I met my sweet Francine.
She daughter of the brother
of the cousin of my niece.
I knew she was too old:
she yet a seventeen!
But she was mighty fine,
and she had more'n fourteen teeth.

We still live out in the fields,
pumpin’ workin’, sometimes eatin’;
I hope when I’ll turn 30
I’ll get a house that ain’t on wheels.

This here's been my short story,
the life of a poor Christ.
So now leave yourn attention,
grab your coke, cut off yourn ears.

Y'all talkin' to the White Trash Family.
Too white, too stupid:
we keep it in the family!
Give us a coon and we’ll be happy.

There’s something that you can see
when you meet a woman:
the sky-blue in her eyes
the strawberry on her lips.

You can ask her her age,
you might ask her number;
you’ll discover what she likes,
and no doubt, you’ll buy it.

Of her perfect, flawless face
you’ll admire the fine nose;
you will swim through her flowing
hair,
and sleep on her sexy back.

I’m sure that you love her voice,
and to you she’s always singing.
She’s the music you’ve been searching for, mate,
in every guitar that you play.

Then you’ll turn your gaze
just to crave for
her perfect cyrcle.

The legs, oh, her legs:
the pedestal of a Greek statue.
You will ask where are her wings,
‘cause I’m sure, you think she’s an angel.

But you’ll be more amazed
to realise that she’s here for you:
her scent, oh babe, she smells
like heaven should smell.

You see her body but
your thoughts linger on her spirit,
because you have to find a way
to make her yours.

There’s something that you can see
when you meet a woman.
But fella, be honest, I know,
that always eyes fall down.

And you turn your gaze
just to crave for
her perfect cyrcle.

Honey-dripped rhythm in the back of my throat,
you slide on me silky, like a mink-skinned coat.
Every beat’s a fever, every lick’s a crown,
I’m drowning in your body, and I don’t wanna drown.

Bassline pumpin’, sweat makes us shine,
Your eyes roll heavy like a drunk red wine.
The floor’s all shaking, the ceiling’s gone thin,
I’m losing myself in the shape of your grin.

I start to feel like in heaven,
And comin’ I start to fly,
And it goes all right.

Well, the morning cracks open, and you fade like smoke,
My hands grab my weenie, it’s a cruel, mean joke.
I was king for the hour, now I’m left with the seam,
Turns out my paradise was a sweet, sweet dream.

I was feeling like in heaven,
And comin’ I started flyin’,
And it goes all right.

Taking off clothes, starting by
tearing my shirt, raw and wild,
leaving your glasses, I’ll tell you why:
you look far hornier, than you are.

Scratching my skin, I can’t deny
the thrill of your body over mine.
Don’t think that’s love, my sweety pie:
It’s brutal, free sex, oh, don’t be shy!

I start to put it up and down;
I hear you shouting all around.
Please keep spitting inside my mouth.
I’ll be your child, please be my clown.

Psychedelic feeling, it’s our sensation:
going beyond this moment of affection.
I’m laying at your feet, need no compassion,
savouring the scent of your skin’s exhalations.

Fire within, I’m drawn to the flame,
water outside: no more explaining.
Honey eat me, I’ll be your feast:
try me and you’ll never hunger for least!

Orgasmic heaven: wow, wow, wow.
Beating over your cheeks my sound.
Just keep lickin’ my bleeding wounds,
Keep biting me deep, I implore you now.

Few minutes to make your head like clouds,
too much to clean it somehow.
Please take my lower heart and you won’t leave it till you die.
Please stay by my side to make T-R-Iple Xs night.

Whatta rage
when you take the last cigarette;
whatta rage
when you break it in your hands.
Whatta rage in you.

So you take the first nun,
that you find in the street,
and you kiss her.
So you take the first me,
that you find in the street,
and you beat him.

Whatta rage
when bitches don’t know the blues;
whatta rage
when you cannot convey your blues to them
Whatta rage in you.

So you take the first priest,
that you find in the street,
and you kiss him.
So you take the first me,
that you find in the street,
and you spit him.

Whatta rage
when you shout at me;
whatta rage
if you’re right you don’t need to do it.
Whatta rage in me.

So you take the first rum,
that you find in the street,
and you drink it.
So you take the first shit,
that you find in the street,
and you eat it.

Whatta rage
whatta rage you;
do you understand my rage?
Don’t y’understand that I hate you.
Whatta rage in me.

So you take the first booze,
that you find in the street,
and you drink it.
So you take the first me,
that you find in the street,
and you beat him.

I got the whiskey eyes, you got the velvet grin,
I set the tripod, babe, let the sin begin.
Well it’s our movie!

Sweating on the lens, and the tape rolls thin,
You say “shoot it twice”,I say “shoot me dead.”
Well it’s our movie!

And at the highlight of the show
We’ll rain all over our souls
Cam’s on, cum in

We’re gonna be the show tonight,
Edit out the guilt, let’s keep out the shame.

Red light is blinking, it’s midnight,
That reel don’t lie, babe,
and it runs so hard,
Well it’s your movie!

And at the highlight of the show
We’ll rain all over our souls
Cam’s on, cum in.