1. |
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We all make mistakes
And there’s a few I’m glad I made:
I know I said I didn’t want fries
But I’ve got a glass of Coke
And ice cream on the side
I know I said I’d die alone
But I’m still standing here
And kicking it at home
Yes we all make mistakes,
And you’re one I’m glad I made
Oh, what you do to me
When you’re true to me
Feels so new to me
Oh, I can finally see
What you mean to me
It’s so clear to me
I know I said that we’d just be friends
But friends don’t stay at home
All cuddled up in bed
I know I said we wouldn’t last long
But it’s been four years
And we’re still going strong
Yes we all make mistakes,
And you’re one I’m glad I made
Oh, what you do to me
When you’re true to me
Feels so new to me
Oh, I can finally see
What you mean to me
It’s so clear to me
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2. |
Choke
02:33
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I saw you Saturday morning
You wore a blue collared shirt
You asked my name and my number
And took my picture for good measure
You took my hand without warning
And suddenly the whole world changed
My tongue was tied and I couldn't speak
I don't wanna come on too strong
But I think about you all the time
No, I don't believe in heaven
But you're in my prayers every night
Is that a gun in your pocket?
Or are you happy to see me?
Yes, that’s a gun in your pocket.
I think you're happy to see me.
I don't wanna come on too strong
But I think about you all the time
No, I don't believe in heaven
But you're in my prayers every night
Our time is gonna come,
If not in this life, then maybe the next one
Our time is gonna come,
And when it does I’m gonna fucking see you
Burn
Burn in hell
Fascist pig
Suck my dick
And burn
Rot in pieces
Fucking bastard
Suck my dick
I don't wanna come on too strong
But I think about you all the time
No, I don't believe in heaven
But you're in my prayers every night
Burn
Burn in hell
Fascist pig
Suck my dick
And burn
Rot in pieces
Fucking bastard
Suck my dick
Your time is gonna come
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3. |
Anarchy in the Ukay-Ukay
02:09
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You’ve got to check your fucking glasses
If you think you’re bigger than the masses
Just because you’re upper-middle classes
Doesn’t mean we gots to kiss your asses
But I’d kick your visages
You raging misogynists
You trying hard fascists
Fuck your feelings, I don’t give a rat’s ass
You’ve had enough, well, I’ve come for more
A second round on this killing floor
Why you acting brand new? We’ve done this before
Screaming, “Marcos, Hitler, Diktador, Tuta!”
Can’t defend our fucking shores
With your precious military force
This ain’t democracy, it’s war
Terrorizing the helpless and the poor
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4. |
Sports Car Mo Bulok
03:08
|
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|
Look at you,
In your swanky-ass sports car
That I could only dream to touch.
I only drive
A hand-me-down sedan
That I fill with the cheapest gasoline
At half-tank.
Who needs a Lamborghini cruisin’ through EDSA,
And by “cruisin’” I mean goin’ 25.
I bet you think you’re really fly, don’t you, rich guy,
Bet you worked hard day and night just for that trust fund, baby.
So get your CCTVs off my back,
And tell your guards to get off my fuckin’ track.
Hey, mister,
I’ve got no shit to give you,
Just take your hands right out my pocket.
Hey, mister,
I really wouldn’t miss you,
In fact, I’d tell you to go suck it.
Don’t tell me just follow the rules and keep my head down —
Between the two of us, I’ve not got much to lose.
Now, I’m not usually the one to make thinly-veiled threats
No offense, but I’m really down to chop some heads
So get your CCTVs off my back,
And tell your guards to get off my fuckin’ track.
Hey, mister,
I’ve got no shit to give you,
Just take your hands right out my pocket.
Hey, mister,
I really wouldn’t miss you,
In fact, I’d tell you to go suck it.
Get your CCTVs off my back,
And tell your guards to get off my track.
If I’m a criminal, then you’re Al Capone,
So leave me be ‘cause I don’t like your fuckin’ tone.
Hey, mister,
I’ve got no shit to give you,
Just take your hands right out my pocket.
Hey, mister,
I really wouldn’t miss you,
In fact, I’d tell you to go suck it.
Hey, mister!
Sorry, mister!
Hey, mister, I keyed your fucking car.
Hey, mister!
Sorry, mister!
No, mister, I don’t know who you fucking are.
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5. |
Our House
03:20
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Our house isn’t our house
But it’s heart enough
To call this place a home.
I don’t remember much,
Because I’m just a babe
I only see it in photos.
Our house is a wide house
With a front yard and a
Back yard for our dogs.
My siblings climb the wall next door
To go hang with friends
While I stay at home.
It rains yellow flowers
From the narra tree
Right outside the gate.
Someone tries to break in
But my grandpa’s ghost
Chases ‘em away.
Our house is a tall house
And next door we got
School mates and a Buddy.
I make art projects
With coffee and all kinds of beans
In our small half-garage.
Our house is a big house
And it’s big enough for
Four banana trees.
It’s got three rooms that we never use
And filled with books
We’ve cracked open only once.
It gets bigger, a little,
Every passing year,
As we get older and fewer.
The outside is calling
But I can’t leave the place I’ve called
Home for fifteen years.
Our house isn’t our house
Our house is a wide house
Our house is a tall house
Our house is a big house
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Scandal Jenner Philippines
Is a solo artist based somewhere in (a) country. Their debut record, Best in Class, follows in the wake of their non-musical
exploits, which include strangling a polar bear with their bare hands (it was self-defense) and possible acts of aggressive shoplifting.
According to prophecy (i.e. Quiapo), they're the reincarnation of famed milk salesman, Max Stirner (Stirn/er pronouns please) and
... more
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