P. C.
You know, what pisses me off more than anything is all these people who
Aren’t exactly politically correct. like the other day, I was out walking
My siberian-american huskies. and you know how canines are: they like to
Sniff everything, including each other’s butts. so some guy walks up and
He says, man, get your dog’s ass out of that other dog’s nose!
So, I replied, how dare you call them dogs! they’re siberian-american
Huskies. that’s like calling an african-american a black. or calling a
Mexican-american a mexican. or calling a homosexual a stupid faggot! it
Pissed me off so much I got a nose ring, died my hair blue and moved to
San francisco!
My bus is broken down
My spirit’s broken too
My girl’s by my side
So I don’t feel so blue
Thirty miles more
To make it to the city
Where junk is king
And the air smells shitty
What a friendly town
It really suits us well
It took some getting used to
That fucking hippy smell
Everyone corrects me
Every time I speak
I’m sick and fucking tired
Of feeling like a stupid l.a. geek
I like it
I like it
I like it
I like it, yes I do
I say it’s not an issue
It doesn’t shed much light
On a global scale
It isn’t worth the fight
The tongue that girl speaks
Is forked to you and me
That bitch has got a problem
I think it’s called p.c.
Die Texte der Lieder. Тексты песен - На сайте свыше 500 текстов песен.
|
