Give me just a second
to grasp your two-bit theories
as that's more than enough time I need
to see through their innate queries
you're telling me to shape up or ship out
but I'd never shape myself to something so offending
as you and your kind
One day you sweetly sigh and say to yourself
"Music's my religion and I'm Born again"
Next week your muse has got some corporate cash
and all of a sudden the tunes are crap
keep your politics to yourself,
kid to me you're just spitting wind
a Windspitting punk with high-brow views
a p.c. fool who's saying nothing new
again and again
what about the kids, piss-poor people
and the broke or the sluts
with overflowing pockets?
or the cursed fucks, pointin' pistols at the pope
are they just martyrs fallen from your graces


Lyrics submitted by black_cow_of_death

Windspitting Punk song meanings
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