调：C major•
Verse 1
having had a little bit too much to drink the night before,
looked into the mirror, and said to yourself,
these magic words,
I totally look like BUTT
Totally feel like BUTT
Totally smell like BUTT
Totally taste like BUTT
I totally am BUTT
I totally am BUTT
I totally am BUTT
I totally am BUTT
Thought is a state of mind,
not the mind of the state of
confusion
That borders Kentucky,
without it we couldn't move bowels
or buildings
The buildup would blow,
we couldn't eat food
Feelings are mutual,
sanity borders in retrograde motion
The buildup is blinding,
the backlash is baffling me to no end
Why do I feel like I'm not in
the mood?
How can we strive to be
the best we can be
when it seems the best we can be is
FUT!
I totally want your FUT!
Totally need your FUT!
Totally smell your FUT!
Totally taste your FUT!
I totally am
What I totally am
What I totally am
What I totally am
What is the place in my heart,
not the heart of the place in
my body that borders my back
That if we couldn't make mountains
from molehills
we wouldn't get spankings,
we wouldn't feel pain
Pain is unusual,
pleasantries border and retrieve
chaos
Punishment happens
at Freudian splendor
Why do I feel like I'm going insane?
How can we strive to be
the best we can be
when it seems the best we can be is
What I totally look like
What I totally feel like
Totally smell like
Totally taste like
I totally am
I totally am
I totally am
I totally am
How can we strive to be
the best we can be
When it seems the best we can be is
What
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