Home Is Where the Sty Is

A pig sweat-dripping
Scratching his balls a male
Since day one the lowest self-esteem, bound to fail
Not a single word
Small talk is done with a fist
Suicidal
Heirloom shotguns and opened wrists
Talks like a stroke in slow motion
Feeling fine, not a day over dead
Drop-dead-ugly, f*cked up abortion
Shits while eats, same inside head
This is what northern men are made of
This how northern men are made
Hey honey, don’t care what’s your name is
Just one thing I crave, take off that dress, I’m your man
Hey honey, flowers belong on graves
I’ll drag you down in the shades of shame
Nevertheless I’m your man
Yes I am!
A true self-loather
Head stuck tight in the noose
When given bottle
Sings his rueful blues through the booze
And them women
Anything goes of course
A masturbator
Yet a long-time fan of intercourse
Agora-xeno-homophobic
An ignorant redneck to the bone
Home is where the vacant sty is
With balls erected the seeds are sown
This is what northern men are made of
This how northern men are made
Hey honey, don’t care what’s your name is
Just one thing I crave, take off that dress, I’m your man
Hey honey, flowers belong on graves
I’ll drag you down in the shades of shame
Nevertheless I’m your man
Yes I am!
Hey honey, don’t care what’s your name is
Just one thing I crave, take off that dress, I’m your man
Hey honey, flowers belong on graves
I’ll drag you down in the shades of shame
Nevertheless I’m your man
Yes I am!