Son of a gun and knife and bomb
Son of a bitch earned every stitch
Son of a father's son, yes I know I'm one
Now it's time to pull the switch

Touch with your eyes, drool with my eyes
Touch with your mind, drool with my mind
Touch with your eyes, drool with my eyes
Touch with my mind, drool with your eyes

Pornsmanship and sales filtrate
Shoulder blades and things concave
And every smile that marks a lie
Passed in cold is real desire
Dressed in silk and flavored milk
Bred in bone and finely honed
Selling, but we always sell
What we always sell, what we can't own

Touch with your eyes, drool with my eyes
Touch with your mind, drool with my mind
Touch with your eyes, drool with my eyes
Touch with my mind, drool with your eyes

(No Surprise end hits, take one.)
(Let's go!)

(Go ahead.)