Вступление
[Verse 1]
If I had a gun I could shoot you down
but I don't have a gun, so I gotta make do.
If I had a knife, I could Slish! Slash! Slice!
'Til yr down on the ground in a pool of red goo.
I'm clinically proven to decimate grime
and i'm clinically proven to eliminate you.
Statistically significant for most of the time,
and scientifically irrelevant except in the bedroom.
[Chorus]
Oh! Singing soft, singing low: you should be dead by now.
Oh! Singing small, singing slow: I'll cut yr insides out.
[Verse 2]
If I had a bomb, I could leave it in a suitcase bomb
'til it bombed yr Australian boyfriend
on and on and on 'til he sucks
the salt off ships at the bottom of the ocean.
Seaweed and sharks and cement feet,
broken hearts and wet, wet dreams
and pirate treasure lost at sea
and all the things he took from me.
[Chorus]
Oh! Singing soft, singing low: you should be dead by now. Ba-ba-dup-bup-bup.
Oh! Singing small, singing slow: I'll cut yr insides out.
Oh! Singing soft, singing low: you should be dead by now.
Oh! Singing small, singing slow: I'll cut yr insides out.
[Outro]
In my hand's a box containing all yr boyfriend's sexual secrets,
typed on Microsoft Word and printed out on a Bubblejet (Times New Roman, size 12).
If you want, I can photocopy it free and distribute it to everybody everywhere.
I've got lots of secrets up my sleeve (lots of tricks - if you want you can see, yeah)
I've got lots of secrets up my sleeve (lots of tricks, lots of tricks, lots of everything)
I've got lots of boxes of machines (lots of boxes, lots of machines, yeah)
I've got lots of infra-red triggered smoke bombs
and contraptions that can kill you