I’m turned off. That repression bit’s jazzercized my provocative thesis: Your ass is grass! In fact you’re dead all ready, jerk off! Those mental mechanisms are just rusty cars traffic gridlocked in yourself-dazzling presumptuosness. Yawn! Isn’t it just so weird? Fascinating. The more you ask the less I know. Ancient functions get reprogrammed. Tomorrow sex is just a stab for nostalgia and agendas for the future are just a twitch to rumble arousal hopes surpass audience attendance: The fees of ears for fucking.


Lyrics submitted by theTyrant

My Saturday Night Fever Turned Into A Sunday Morning Rash song meanings
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    General CommentI give up:

    I’m turned off.
    That repression bit’s jazzercized my provocative thesis:
    Your ass is grass!

    In fact you’re dead all ready, jerk off!

    Those mental mechanisms are just rusty cars traffic gridlocked in yourself-dazzling presumptuosness.
    Yawn! Isn’t it just so weird? Fascinating.
    The more you ask the less I know.
    Ancient functions get reprogrammed.
    Tomorrow sex is just a stab for nostalgia and agendas for the future are just a twitch to rumble arousal hopes surpass audience attendance:
    The fees of ears for fucking.
    theTyranton July 18, 2007   Link

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