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Fuck the Factoid

de Napalm Death

Spin yarns, carve the face off a main event
Spray that gibberish all around, it is slick
Spin yarns, carve the face off a main event
Graft on that phantom limb, it twists

Get
Get
Get a loosened grip
Get a loosened grip
Loosened grip

Temperature is scalding, needing scapegoats to diffuse
And we all know a non-event's every kind of news
But tell the baying throng the strays have rifled through

You can't lose
You can't lose
You can't lose

Ire
Ire erupts from glad-handing the liars
Ire erupts from glad-handing the liars
Ire

Filthy fucking factoid epidemic sprouting norms
And in the process, hobbling outcasts who already fell short
But tell the baying throng the strays have run amok

Filthy fucking factoid epidemic
Filthy fucking factoid epidemic
Filthy fucking factoid epidemic
Filthy fucking factoid epidemic

Filthy fucking factoid epidemic

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