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lyrics

Hey, I get it, you wanna run my life!
Why don't you stick an antenna up my ass
And make me your own satellite
You bitch.

Why the hell do you gotta make it so damn tough?
I could find a cure for cancer,but it wouldn't be enough

You seem to think that I'm a money tree
Since your only big concern is:
"How much will he spend on me?"
That's it!
I've had it!
I can't take anymore!
If you can't see that you're wrong,
I can show you to the door.

Tell me what do you want from me?
My body? My soul?
Is there any relief for me?
From you? Hell no.

I won't listen to you until your mouth is shut.
And we don't gotta throw down
Just 'cause the toilet seat's up.

I know that you suck
I know that you blow
I know that I'm fucked
I know that I can't say no.

You've got the nerve to tell me how to drive
When you've been in so many wrecks
It's amazing you're alive.

Plus you're hogging all the oxygen since all you do is talk
Give me one good reason not to make you get out here and walk.

NO, that doesn't mean I think you're overweight.
I tell you all the time,
"I think that you look great!"
But hey, does it matter with anything I say?
Since I'm always wrong (and didn't do the dishes yesterday)

I know that you suck
I know that you blow
I know that I'm fucked

credits

from We Couldn't Think of a Title, released August 1, 2006

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Psychostick Chicago, Illinois

Psychostick is a comedy metal band who enjoys beer, boobs, and the occasional dichotomy of a bi-partisan government. Wait... what?

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