The Sweetest Song
Come sucker fucking away the pain, doing the rounds again, bound, held down in a self made Hell that you picked in your own design and you would change your mind if you could turn back time.
Taking the piss out of the men you kissed. Every cock you took, you fucked, you ditched.
And you would open up wide, hung dried and left out to die.
Your corpse ain't gonna be missed
Chorus
I heard a song; I heard the sweetest song that hit me
And it went na, na, na, na
Just a cunt on the hunt for cunt who want that kind of meat.
A fuck in the ass and then they're back on the street.
They're just part of your grand design.
And you would change your mind if you could turn back time.
Shit talking lips around the tool, nothing but a cold pussy passed 'round all of the fools.
You're the last to know that what you sow you reap, and you'll be reaping while weeping on the dick of a creep.
Headfucking waste of ass, all cash and no class you ball breaking no good bitch sitting pretty in pink and thinking your shit don't stink, aside from the twat you ain't all that.
And the boys will dance for a chance to lance your cancerous cunt.
You're the last disease on the block.
That cock, that fresh erection is the next in line for your black infection.
Taking the piss out of the men you kissed. Every cock you took, you fucked, you ditched.
And you would open up wide, hung dried and left out to die.
Your corpse ain't gonna be missed
Chorus
I heard a song; I heard the sweetest song that hit me
And it went na, na, na, na
Just a cunt on the hunt for cunt who want that kind of meat.
A fuck in the ass and then they're back on the street.
They're just part of your grand design.
And you would change your mind if you could turn back time.
Shit talking lips around the tool, nothing but a cold pussy passed 'round all of the fools.
You're the last to know that what you sow you reap, and you'll be reaping while weeping on the dick of a creep.
Headfucking waste of ass, all cash and no class you ball breaking no good bitch sitting pretty in pink and thinking your shit don't stink, aside from the twat you ain't all that.
And the boys will dance for a chance to lance your cancerous cunt.
You're the last disease on the block.
That cock, that fresh erection is the next in line for your black infection.
Credits
Writer(s): Ginger Wildheart, Christopher Paul Jagdhar, Richard John Battersby, Scott Engelter Gerard
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
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