THE time you rubbed shit on your face
We tore apart the fucking place;
Man and boy would wonder why,
But we knew you were very high.
To-day, the road all scumfucs come,
Shoulder-high we bring you home,
And set you at your threshold down,
Junky with his shorts stained brown.
Smart lad, to slip betimes away
From clubs before the cops array,
And early though the show's shut down
It becomes the talk of the town.
Eyes sweet lady H has shut
Cannot see the funeral slut,
And "Ass Fuckin', Butt Suckin', Cunt Lickin', Masturbation" sounds no worse than cheers
After earth has stopped the ears:
Now you will not swell the ranks
Of lads that catch disease from skanks,
Brother Merle, whom renown outran
And the name died before the man.
So set, before its stench fades,
The banana on the sill of shade,
And hold to the audience up
The still-putrid vomit cup.
And round that sore-infested head
Will flock to gaze the strengthless dead,
And find unwithered on its pate
The remnants of a masturbate.
