Strapping Young Lad

you pretentious fucking losers
you've got nothing at all
you've got your fingers in your asshole
and your hand on the call
and you talk such fucking horseshit
that it's hard to believe
that you almost make careers out of being naive
you, you are a fucker coz you sold my guitar
you, you are a fucker, seeking fortune in bars
you, you are a fucker, coz you say such stupid shit
I've got a better line in pocket lint
than what you've done with it
so if you are an asshole who pretends to be a friend
then get your ass in music, you'll be set to the end, ending,
and now you've got the nerve to ask me about my temper?
why yes, I have become a fucking happy camper!
I hate your fucking faces and your trendy cut hair,
I hate the fact you think your job will go anywhere
because it's use is just the same as what I shit into the bowl
just like the mess between your ears is like the mess in my hole
I hate your loser friends who only come out when it's right
I hate that when it's down you run instead of fight
I'm set to think you lot in life to test the stronger ones
will just require some chicken shit and also sneakers for the run.
I dig it away, the shit you puked instead of swallowed,
in an attempt to try and find the dick instead of the load,
so when you move and stand aside my mood will hamper,
and yes, I will become a fucking happy camper!
stuck in endless winter with your press to keep you sane
wait for useless numbers to grow useful once again
where the heat will come again, your flaw grows sick,
your flaw will send, the shit you call your business
to the place that is your end
stuck in the winter, cold and wet,
your stupid friends have come and went
and you've left behind your idiot job,