Letras:
Pop Iggy Beat Em Up

Death is the best, better than all the rest On the dutiful lies in the rock paradise Losses and wear and the texture of age Adds a truth to the heart

football, baby Rollin' round the field I've been passed and fumbled Till I don't know what I feel Everybody's the same They're all footballs too Setting up

up Go for the throat, I'm fucked up Man, I'm so fucked up I'm fucked up, I'm fucked up I'm fucked up, I'm fucked up Man, I'm so fucked up Poor little

mask You're wearing a mask Which mask are you? Which mask are you? Complicated, crushed up, disappointed Squirming, angry, thrusting, stabbing, regretting, starving Greedy human alien being, struggling down the street Up

gonna burst That's why the guy's a jerk Oh, man, you're killin' me Hey, man, you're killin' me He hangs out by the ladies' room His pick up line is

Weasels, weasels are runnin' me to death I checked my gas there ain't much left Still I will take a parting shot Before I leave myself to rot Barbaric

sir, but it's such a pleasure to have you on board. May I have your autograph for my daughter ?" "Yeah baby right after I go to the toilet I i'll give you a couple of'em