Тексты песен
Hark my feral finger when
Flesh arrives in innocence
Undergarments free and wild
Living life, unreconciled
There's no better feeling than a hard-on
I guess, I guess the closest thing is the feeling of holding a gun
But, but instead of being cold and rigid
It's a gun made of hot meat
Your own flesh and blood
It's warm and it tingles and
Somehow it's hard and soft at the same time
And it's yours
It's your power
It's your gun
And what do you do with a gun?
You shoot it
You look for a nice target
You take aim and you squeeze the trigger
And that fucking gun goes "Blaow!"
There's nothing like it
I guess, I guess the only thing that would make it better
Would be if you could just
Put another bullet in it
And shoot that fucker again
And again
And again
And again
And again
And again
And again
And again
And again
And again
Oh well, nothing is perfect
