Texty: Faith No More. Angel Dust. Rv.
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(l,m,p) Faith No More
< Mike Bordin: Drums; Roddy Bottum: Keyboards;
Billy Gould: Bass Guitar; Jim Martin: Guitar;
Mike Patton: Vocals >
( Angel Dust [Slash Records, 1992] )
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Backside melts into a sofa
My world, my TV, and my food
Besides listening to my belly gurgle
Ain't much else to do
Yeah, I sweat a lot
Pants fall down every time I bend over
And my feet itch
Yeah-I married a scarecrow
I hate you
Talking to myself
Everibody's starin' at me
I'm only bleedin'
Someone taps me on the shoulder every 5 minutes
Nobody speaks English anymore
Would anybody tell me I was gettin' stupider?
I hate you
Talking to myself
You don't feel it after awhile
You take the beating
I'm a swingin' guy
Throw a belt over the shower curtain rod
And swing - - -
Toss me inside a Hefty
And put me in the ground
A drink needs me
I don't
I ain't about to guzzle no tears
so kiss my ass
newscasters, coakroaches, and desserts
I hate you
Talkin' to myself
Everibody's starin' at me
I'm only bleedin'
Where are the kids?
maybepregnantorondrugs
oronwelfareontopoftheworld
donthehonorrolonparoleontheDodgers
onthebackofmilkcartonsonstakes
inthemiddleofcornfields
oncoversoffuturehistorybooks
onoldlady'smantleswalkin'onwaternailedoncrosses
I think it's time I had a talk with my kids
I'll just tell 'em what my daddy told me
YOU AIN'T NEVER GONNA AMOUNT NOTHIN'
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(l,m,p) Faith No More
< Mike Bordin: Drums; Roddy Bottum: Keyboards;
Billy Gould: Bass Guitar; Jim Martin: Guitar;
Mike Patton: Vocals >
( Angel Dust [Slash Records, 1992] )
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Backside melts into a sofa
My world, my TV, and my food
Besides listening to my belly gurgle
Ain't much else to do
Yeah, I sweat a lot
Pants fall down every time I bend over
And my feet itch
Yeah-I married a scarecrow
I hate you
Talking to myself
Everibody's starin' at me
I'm only bleedin'
Someone taps me on the shoulder every 5 minutes
Nobody speaks English anymore
Would anybody tell me I was gettin' stupider?
I hate you
Talking to myself
You don't feel it after awhile
You take the beating
I'm a swingin' guy
Throw a belt over the shower curtain rod
And swing - - -
Toss me inside a Hefty
And put me in the ground
A drink needs me
I don't
I ain't about to guzzle no tears
so kiss my ass
newscasters, coakroaches, and desserts
I hate you
Talkin' to myself
Everibody's starin' at me
I'm only bleedin'
Where are the kids?
maybepregnantorondrugs
oronwelfareontopoftheworld
donthehonorrolonparoleontheDodgers
onthebackofmilkcartonsonstakes
inthemiddleofcornfields
oncoversoffuturehistorybooks
onoldlady'smantleswalkin'onwaternailedoncrosses
I think it's time I had a talk with my kids
I'll just tell 'em what my daddy told me
YOU AIN'T NEVER GONNA AMOUNT NOTHIN'
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Faith No More
Faith No More
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