Inner Thighs

Mess made under the periscope Bed sheet red stains, leg veins varicose Pick a friend's nose, flick it off and I don't miss Wet the bed, sleep in a puddle of my own piss Next to seven crack pipes, a rifle, and two hotties And dudes frotting in graveyards with exhumed bodies I bite my toenails, licking scum up off my feet Eating cigarette butts and picking gum up off the street A sky-screaming pussy on the free ride team With deep-fried dreams, discharge like refried beans Floors crawling with roaches and guns bolted to roombas And table stacked up with bloody gauze and taco bell chalupas Forever on the bottom, a greaser messing with prudes Panko crust punk just Caesar dressing my wounds For the benefit of Mr kite and other native cannibals Who fly in parabolic arches clutching on to cannon balls In our sport the winner cries Full of blood wet in tears, snot and shit's in her eyes It's a brand new terrorist enterprise Who refuse to Lick the cum from lady liberty's inner thighs Dysfunctional duo in line for the Sinners prize Who drink our enemies blood like vintage dinner wines Without it the hairs on our skin'll rise So we satiate withdrawals very much to chagrin or demise Liar in disgrace, knuckle children on my back fist Fire on my face and my name up on the blacklist Cigarette burning and the smokes in my eyes Blink blink, more grosser than most other guys Walk up in the discotheque just hoping to bag dresses Use a rusty carpet knife to open up abscesses Lick the wound and drink the pus, the color of pink and rust The stink and musk will choke you the minute you think of us Hair on my dome frizzy, I'm swallowing whole glizzys A father and foal keeping the watering hole busy And swimming in sludge mixed up with gator and hippo shit Til it made her afraid of Vader and laden with hypocrites Picking at popped zits till my face is in smithereens And there's ribbons of blood leaking from places within her jeans Crickets and frogs leaping in spades from out the sides Next to genitalia in jars of formaldehyde And skin on clotheslines and bowls of pine-sol And old dybbuk boxes with souls and eyeballs Couch growing around me, drink buckets of mayo F*ck it, say yo or keep sucking up yayo In our sport the winner cries Full of blood wet in tears, snot and shit's in her eyes It's a brand new terrorist enterprise Who refuse to Lick the cum from lady liberty's inner thighs Dysfunctional duo in line for the Sinners prize Who drink our enemies blood like vintage dinner wines Without it the hairs on our skin'll rise So we satiate withdrawals very much to chagrin or demise