Song of Substance

A* something something something Something something something Something! X2 Blond bitches, abercrombie fitches tight shirts, short skirts five carrots, some corn and celery in their dishes boys, girls, cars, and mascara football, chearleading. And the breakfast banana nike, adidas, getting down wit da’ fubu pink fingernails and everything from malibu surfing, chearing, pep rallying, and posing britney, avril, timberlake, our society’s depleting C* Fuck! Why the fuck are you fucking? Your fucking, stop fucking, with me I’m tired of your useless, pointless compilation of nothingness Words You’re all a bunch of turds! Duh! What? I know I’m pretty But I’m too fat, I bought neutraslim from TV Get me skinny, oh look, count my ribs That’s not enough, my eyes are sinking in! Turning kind of purple, I’ll hide it with my cover up What the hell are UFO’s? Punk rockers are all cracked up C Oh, so leave us alone, we’ll leave you alone if you leave us alone Don’t tell me about the guy next door and your tanning galore Don’t ask me about geso, you don’t even care Your too fucking ghetto, I see your sparkly underwear I couldn’t give a shit and your pants don’t fit Their too fucking tight, I can still see your cellulite C 2003