Roachweed (1994)

Roachweed

This is the chorus: Roachweed

Never tastes the same as it did the first time around

Never stays lit, smells like an oil spill

Makes your lungs hurt from the very first hit

Although the reasons for smoking it are sound

Such as

Concentrated THC form many highs

From when it was just getting’ good

And was snuffed out prematurely

Surely, if you can stomach the taste

And are against needless waste

You’ll agree with me

Roachweed

Gets you through them hard times

Except if you’re a spoiled wuss

In which case fuck you

Who let you in here

Get the fuck out

You fucken loser—an abuser

Of resources

That don’t come so easy

To many of my friends—Roachweed

Spurious reports from the far right

Medical experts in the field

Have mentioned it’s a hazard

To inhale burning matter

As if to say, God doesn’t smoke

Well, what’s a fucken volcano?

God smokin’, that’s what, and let

Me tell you He takes big hits

And holds them in

A LONG FUCKIN TIME, OK?

A serial killer's song (1994)

Make me present, a part of yourself

Pretty little piece I can keep on the shelf

Something in pink, with the inside all red

“Middle of the heart, cross section,” it said

Take me somewhere inside of you

Anywhere’s fine, any opening will do

I’ll find my way in and you’ll close the door

And I’ll never be seen or heard any more

Give me a pint of your precious dew

And let me relax for a moment of two

Don’t go away cause you know we’re not through

Many are called but those that get away are few

My Last Words to My Friends -- date approximate (***unedited*** Explicit *** trigger warning, etc. *** -- be warned -- This is misogynistic, vile and disgusting ***)

                             My Last Words to My Friends

Arvada -- Just stop picking it. Stop it! It will go away. It's disgusting. That's all.

Carol -- Can't believe Gene stuck it in you. He told me that he's ashamed and regrets it. But he did mention that it was only possible at all because he turned you around and fucked you like the farm animal that you are?

Carol's Daughter -- Grow up, bitch! Get a job, get fixed and put your baby up for adoption. And leave your poor squirrel brained mother alone.

Any Girl on the Streets -- Hey Babe. Didja like the buckets of white hot bubbling cum I drenched you with last night? 

Didja like licking my flaky white crumbling toejam, bitch?

Didja like sucking out the earwax and the leftover soapscum from my ear, CUNT!?

Didja like the smell of my itchy smelly scrotum bags, honey, of course you did when you sucked my cock so readily, sow, whore, piglet, slut, your reeking fish-barge pussy is so sloppy and well gravied it's a wonder the whole neighborhood's cats don't show up every time you uncross your looser than gooseshit legs. Oh, and your nipples, if they had any more hair around 'em would look like these woolly mammoth type flying saucer things, I don't know what -- but goddamn they're scary! Whew. And if I catch you around my butthole, with its greasy, bloody hanging bits of debris, along with lint -- either sniffing or attempting to lick the gathered salami tie creases around the sphincter, or trying to insert either a tongue or other non-organic foreign object therein -- I shall blast you! Ha. I will fart in your face. I fart in the faces of all poop smelling butt loving bitches anyway.