I've got philanthropic race car dreams like men who've crashed and burned, except the lessons that I've learned will probably give me medals earned.
And I've got all this time to live, I've got too much time to think, like when I'm at a show, and everybody else is buying drinks.
I've got disassociated tastes and a sexy stash of wealth, and if I had to I could carry this whole group here by myself.
On my shoulders like a boulder as I keep my sense of health. From the fiery gates of heaven to the pearly pits of hell.

Chorus: I'm pleased to meet you. I don't even truly want to know you. I don't even write these lyrics slow dude. I just let them babies pass on right through me.
Someone told me I would probably like you, and I can't think of reasons I despise you.

I've got toaster oven presets that are ready to impress, and this suit would match your sweet Caucasian perfect nippled breast.
I've got jesus christ on speed dial, I've got Gandhi on my cell. And I've got crazy cat charisma and adrenaline to sell.
So give me peanut butter jellies I can spread on buttered toast, and I'd like to thank my aunt, because she's the one who's given most to me for 4 years now, she's helped me figure out just who I am.
A mother loving sex machine with super skinny gams.

I'm bad, you badder, we played at the Mad Hatter. We sold 50 tickets, but none of our friends showed up.
But come to think of it, my mom sold 40, and her friends are all sporty, and when it comes to rock n' roll, they don't wanna see my waste my time and soul.