I’m Perfect and You Suck!
You are like wienies on a stick, of this sad scenario, marching on in the rain,
I slowly run you over the campfire, Burning, turning, starting to feel the pain,
Then you are bitten by a tick, you take a lick, Telegraph it on the long wire,
You collapse, very sick and retire, here’s Pumpkin Pie for the addict’s desires,
Beating your little chest, telling God off! You won’t stand for personal tragedy,
Demanding from me my best, lying on the sofa, ground, people from town,
As if I owed you the rest, nor does your servant have the ability to count down,
Here’s your test, you burnt pest, you are perfect and I suck? And your worth?
Did you make your self, little frankfurter? Do you wind your heart spring?
Do you make my decisions for me? Decide anything? What do you bring?
Do you sign the petition to force it? Do you lash out and scream in agony?
What to do if I turn my back? Run and tell? What the hell? Tell who what?
Powerless child crying over spilled lemonade, demanding more grave relief,
Sheena is a punk rocker, Just ask the Ramones, One-Two-Three-Four. Bop
Nobody writes her a check. No one cares. No one cries, No one dares, Just stop
At 53rd and 3rd, the one no one ever picks. On Bleecker, a diamond shines!
No one cares, No one weeps. Here’s my mustard on loan. Dress your wounds,
Lick it off, stand up, be counted, jump over the edge, take wing for thanks,
Who caught you when you fell? Did they give you life as well? Life in Hell?