Happy Camper (carpe B.u.m.)

Heavy As A Really Heavy Thing

Strapping Young Lad

歌词

You pretentious ****ing losers

You've got nothing at all

You've got your fingers in your asshole

And your hand on the call

And you talk such ****ing *********

That it's hard to believe

That you almost make careers out of being naive

You, you are a ****** 'cause you sold my guitar

You, you are a ******, seeking fortune in bars

You, you are a ******, 'cause you say such stupid ****

I've got a better line in pocket lint

That what you've done with it

So if you are an asshole who pretends to be a friend

Then get your ass in music, you'll be set to the end, ending

And now you've got the nerve to ask me about my temper?

Why yes, I have become a ****ing happy camper!

I hate your ****ing faces and your trendy cut hair

I hate the fact you think your job will go anywhere

Because its use is just the same as what I **** into the bowl

Just like the mess between your ears is like the mess in my hole

I hate your loser friends who only come out when it's right

I hate that when it's down you run instead of fight

I'm set to think your lot in life to test the stronger ones

Will just require some chicken **** and also sneakers for the run

I dig it away, the **** you puked instead of swallowed

In an attempt to try and find the **** instead of the load

So when you move and stand aside my mood will hamper

And yes, I will become a ****ing happy camper!

Stuck in endless winter with your press to keep you sane

Wait for useless numbers to grow useful once again

Where the heat will come again, your flaw grows sick

Your flaw will send, the **** you call your business

To the place that is your end

Stuck in the winter, cold and wet

Your stupid friends have come and went

And you're left behind with your idiot job

And it's far from a prize, you ****ing dink

You're a ****ing dink... yeah!

How's this for punk? Dink!

Suck my cock, you pathetic excuse for a human being

You're a neurotic, homophobic, racist dork. You've also got a lot of balls to **** with someone else's life, you ****ing pseudo-ghetto "boy in the hood" middle-class, white, spoiled-rotten bored "gangsta" wanna-be hunk of regenerated redneck ********! Thank Christ you don't have to rely on that staggering intellect or dynamic personality to intimidate others, **** for Brains. Shut the **** up, and get out of your parents' house and get a real job, you putz, and for god's sake, quit being such a ****ing sheep! Now grow the hell up!

... Dink

I let it get me down because you're in it for the glory

And I'd rather leave with reason than go dying for a story

And this whole L.A. rock thing

That the malls are buying up

It doesn't work, it doesn't work

It's so inbred I might throw up

And now I'm put into the middle

With the contracts and the bunk, and I always end up hearing

"Hey man, punk... let's have more punk!"

So here I am to do a favour, save some hassle, kiss and tell

That either way my music's **** and it ain't ever going to sell