I'm not singing about April showers
I'm not singing about the rain
They're going to stick my name in the papers
I send them all away
I want to sing about ball & chains and ride the mystery train
I wrote the horror of John Paul Getty
Sold that man for free
You s**er you're going to limp down to that scene
Face this s**er you're going to trip and miss that seat
You s**er aren't safe s**er
I'm going to set my place in the mountains
I'm going to wear it out of phase
I want to sing about the kinds of people
That others want erased
Some of us think and some of us pray
Not you s**er
You just seat and reap
You s**er you're going to trip and miss that seat
s**er (s**er)
You, you want to seek
You're going to trip and miss that seat
We, we're going to fish
We're going to make you eat that meat
She's going to suffer
Mensch is going to suffer
We all are going to suffer
The people here are going to suffer
The whole damn place will suffer
Whilst you just reap that f** up
Break. Break. Break. Break. s**er
You suffer s**er (s**er s**er)