Impending Halfhead Propagandhi

He had a stack of dimes for a dink
That he kept hidden from his young tormentors
She crapped in her pants and when it started to stink
They laughed her up a railing high above the river

A goddamn beige curse
She couldn't imagine worse
She once was known for her art
Not anymore

His mom caught him jerking when she got home from work
And it drove him to stick needles in his arm
She gave him one blowjob in the back of a van
And the clap quickly spread across her lips

Oh fuck, there's a fucking curse
She couldn't imagine worse
They thought she was such a nice kid
Not anymore

A bumpy road for thimble-dicks and pubeless dweebs
You with the natural perm, the brown-toothed, the bald-spotted, bottle-glassed puds, fucking halfhead
Boneracked spazzes with limp handshakes and zit cream ordered by mail
No-boobed girls, man-boobed boys, his mom picks his clothes and she smells like pee

These are the mean streets
Don't kill yourself yet
Adulthood's worse
Don't kill yourself at all... yet