Well that's a fine kinda drug
You're mistaking for your girl
Slimy and tastes like rye
In a polluted world
She's the shake that is the sneak
That bends your thighs and rots your teeth
Smoke rises from the fumes
Get loose.
She is craving for your soul
Making the tunnels turn to holes
Pours of green and tanks of gasoline
Skin death pale and in the sun
It bursts to flames and her work is done
Now you're all just crisp and numb
Knowing that you're rideled with her fun
The truth.
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