There is a certain type of genius
Who is proud to know so much
He skipped a thousand showers
Cause he doesn't need to touch
He hides his bastard faces
Behind thick panes of glass
They're all that seperates him
From the apish lower class
And the stench of love keeps sneaking up his nose
Through all the snot his sinuses can hold
Believing all the lies that he's been told
Grows old, so old
A friday night alone with friends
He's got but one or two
They're geniuses like him, you see
Nothing like all of you
They banter and they languish
With all ostentatious plea
They're all so trendy and which
They're underground machines
And he won't be there when jesus comes around
He'll write a book on what his studies found
And deep inside he'll learn to fear the sound
Of hope, of hope
Who is proud to know so much
He skipped a thousand showers
Cause he doesn't need to touch
He hides his bastard faces
Behind thick panes of glass
They're all that seperates him
From the apish lower class
And the stench of love keeps sneaking up his nose
Through all the snot his sinuses can hold
Believing all the lies that he's been told
Grows old, so old
A friday night alone with friends
He's got but one or two
They're geniuses like him, you see
Nothing like all of you
They banter and they languish
With all ostentatious plea
They're all so trendy and which
They're underground machines
And he won't be there when jesus comes around
He'll write a book on what his studies found
And deep inside he'll learn to fear the sound
Of hope, of hope
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