I'm a real bad driver
but he was so skinny
that wind filled his skin up
just like a balloon
and it looked like muscles
to each pa**ing car
and they said, hey that's a f*g
can lift up weights on a bar
and the emergency lane
is my middle of the road
and the traffic jams curse me
to hell in code
but the cars like to scatter
just like real nervous flies
when my pick-up truck belches
some hell to the sky
and my grate seem to smile
with a murderous eye
when I flicker my brights
with a wink and a lie
and we wave 'em
wave 'em
wave 'em all
goodbye
and I drive a vein
empty of t-cells and t-birds
in a night that's a body
with its blood in the dirt
and his story pours out
with the sweat on his brow
from his festering mouth
spitting details of how
pappy talked like a knife
then drips off his lips
and his granny push out
and gets caught at the hips
so his brain's just a womb
knocked up family-style
that I swear will grow barren
on this crooked mile
yeah he's got a c*nt-mouth
birthing out
his family
and he'll push them all out
and leave 'em go rambling
and they'll wait on his grave
where he won't be buried
'cause that hole will say no
to a bu*t-f**ing fairy
so it's just you and me boy
alone with no cops
for as long as the road
and this truck
never stops
it never stops