Sometimes I've had about enough
All these ******* buttercups

Puckering up
At the first scent of gruff

It's disruptive
To my mustering

I mean

Must we
Smother trouble out of ****

Must we malfunction
Into a skit

A script

Skipp-ed
To laugh tracks

Pre-writ
Until the last laughs

Where the curtains close
To fading claps

All the cards
Are all on the floor

Little adorable torturers

Peering through the doors
Afforded by our tor-mentors

Over it
We will get

Even get on with it

Cuz all of this
This is that and that is this

Is ******* ridiculous
Is worthless

It is foulness in its stench
The bowels of our regret

Unkempt and ******
It's ******* soaked in ****

Where the credits never roll
And the patrons only stroll
On outta here for a beer
And a night on the town

And all this

Flapping of the gums
And slathering of spit

Is glossing over my ****
And it's all we will ever get

If we would just submit

Wipe the sand from our *****
And remove the ******* sticks

We might find
We have loosened up a bit

Just don't be such a little *****
And other inflammatory ****


[That's it]