Interpret:

Faith No More

Album:

Angel Dust

Backside melts into the sofa 
My world my TV and my food 
Besides listening to my belly gurgle 
There ain't much else to do 
Yeah, I sweat a lot 
Pants fall down everytime I bend over 
My feet itch 
Yeah - I married a scarecrow 


I hate you 
Talkin' to myself 
Everybody's staring at me 
I'm only bleedin' 


Someone taps me on the shoulder every 5 minutes 
No on speaks English anymore 
Would anybody tell me if I was getting stupider? 


I hate you 
Talkin' to myself 
You don't feel it after awhile 
You take the beating 


I'm a swingin' guy 
Throw a belt over the shower curtain rod 
And swing--- 
Toss me inside a hefty 
And put me in the ground 


A drink needs me 
I don't 
I ain't about to guzzle no tears 
So kiss my ass 
Newscasters, cockroaches, and desserts 


I hate you 
Talking to myself 
Everbody's staring at me 
I'm only bleeding 


Where are the kids? 
Maybe getting pregnant or on drugs or on welfare 
on top of the world on the honor roll on parole 
on the dodgers on the backs of milk cartons 
on stakes in the middle of cornfields 
on covers of future history books on old lady's mantles 
walkin' on water nailed on crosses 


I think it's time I had a talk with my kids 
I'll just tell 'em what my daddy told me 
YOU AIN'T NEVER GONNA AMOUNT TO NOTHIN'