Lyrics
Reconciled with accuracy
In agreement with menstruation
Erectiled being of hits
Simpleton, simpleton
The horror of my clothes is standing up
The face on this body is going far
So be it if your character actually sucks
My secret doesn't have the wholesome stuff
Wash my hands shorty
Added to the alphabet
With a penalized blazed oven
This is civilization
Without a third person
I have no knowledge of this surprise
In a box with a skeleton take its eyes
Believe me when I tell you that you're making me try
But you're going to have to let me in and hear my side
Wash my hands shorty
The horror of my clothes is standing up
The face on this body is going far
So be it if your character actually sucks
My secret doesn't have the wholesome stuff
