The Press 가사

It's a barrage of violence, sickness and shame You struggle for your living and you're paying with pain I read of the poor, and the women and the victims to blame For the collapse of the country again and again They're checking all the people In all their holes Whips and lashes and cuts back To double standards, backhanders It's a grey desolate country But we're glorious again He's peeling his banana while roasting your nuts You've got to get your gums around his plums He's going to modify your attitude And customize your crawl With the muck he prints He's got to us all Peoria I met her in Peoria 250 lbs. of flabby harlot woman flesh Is wobbling around the hotel room, farting Mucus is dripping from her pig-hole nostrils into her mouth Nah, streaming Steaming, streaming great green rivulet Her tounge makes sure no leftover chunks go astray, miss their mark Mom I mean buisness Put your finger on the button Yeah, will do Just let me finish this page I said (hog call) Sticky, sticky, sticky, sticky, sticky Tounge's feeling dry, swollen up like a pocket full of lint inclusive Know what I mean Know what I mean Know what I mean Failing that, the falling fat Crack another six pack and get on with the job at hand Many hands make light work But makes palms broth Fists flying and slipping into hole after hole after hole after heat Hey, she buys cayenneby the quart Filled up to the elbow bone, fried up to the joint Filed at the shin, skin hanging off in sheets and shards You do this shit for a living Those grimey, greasy pores exuding their slimy mixture of filth and puss In little white whorled pustules Every time she smiles that yellow, shit-eating grin That shit-eating grin Christ, she was beautiful