Son of a gun and knife and bomb 

Son of a bitch earned every stitch 

Son of a father's son yes I know I'm one 

Now it's time to pull the switch 



Touch with your eyes drool with my eyes 

Touch with your mind drool with my mind 

Touch with your eyes drool with my eyes 

Touch with my mind drool with your eyes 

Pornsmanship and sales filtrate 

Shoulder blades and things concave 

And every smile that marks a lie 

Dressed in silk and flavored milk 

Bred in bone and finely honed 

To always sell what we can't own