On Mondays murder children, little girls and boys
I put my hands around their throats till they don't make a noise
Tuesdays torture animals, pluck off small birds wings
Watch them as they bleed to death, then they don't sing
Wednesdays I defecate on the priest's front door
If the priest he does complain, I just do it some more
Thursdays I Molatov the local orphans home
Love those little orphans, charred down to the bone
I'm terrible, terrible, shouldn't be allowed
To sing my songs of filth to a decent crowd
On Fridays sodomize tender virgin nuns
Tie them up, lear at them, and then I have my fun
Saturdays I stand and sing my sad, sad, sick, sick songs
To anyone who listen, who in the head is wrong
Sundays, Sundays, the day I love the best
Rape, murder, pillage while other people rest
I'm terrible, terrible, shouldn't be allowed
To sing my songs of filth to a decent crowd
I'm terrible, terrible, shouldn't be allowed
But when I do offend someone it makes me feel so proud
A vida descostura, o homem passa a linha, a corrigir os panos do tempo.Mia Couto
2008-07-07
Parabéns, Zé
Para muitos, pode parecer estranho o presente de aniversário que aqui te deixo. Mas acho que vais gostar :)
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2 comentários:
claro que sim. i'm terrible, terrible, shouldn't be allowed
to write my posts of filth to a decent crowd. ora aí está uma boa descrição para o "meu" estado actual. je vous remercie, madame.
E eu a pensar quem era o Tigre a dar-me música. Lol!
(Deixa que não és o único. Além de que os Tigger Lillies sempre mantêm as caras pintadas para que ninguém leve demasiado a sério os seus lullabies terroristas, o que pode dizer muita coisa)
(E é mademoiselle! :P)
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