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The Moon's Gone Out

de Sheer Terror

Enough of your shit, I've had it up to here
It's time I made my intentions clear
I don't give a fuck about your skinhead pride
And I couldn't care less about the Lower East Side
I'm just a working class slob who's tired
Of getting the short end of the stick
It ain't my problem if I'm not like you
And I'm not sucking uncle Sam's dick
You call that negative
You think I'm out of touch
I can't stand living, I can't stand you, and I just can't hate enough
You say my hatred has blinded me where I can't see as far as I could spit
But that's where you're wrong 'cause I could see quite clear
And I could see that you're full of shit

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