Lyrics:
"Hi, my name is Arthur and I quit!" Chickenshit! "You know he said something about a Taking a feather home for his Wife, you know for a hat That
building monuments for the status quo Shut your gap, ersatz iconoclast I'm sick of hearing you talking out your ass Chickenshit Stand for nothing
Because like Gramsci said I'm chickenshit And when it comes to blows I'd rather read another book I'd rather write another poem Sorites had it wrong We're
train can haul I'm not jealous Now if I were chickenshit, I would have left But i'm not, so I stayed and finished my drink Tried to ride out this little
I don't think i can get it anymore Gentle now, my chickenshit rose (You seem to be green around the gills) Gently now, chickenshit rose
Chernobyl radiation You won't survive irradiation No chemical recreation Cause the body's evaporation Killing chickenshit no hesitation I've been falling for
a chickenshit Libido's low my heart's with it So I write this dubious hit I am a chickenshit The subject's getting old I strike while the iron's cold I could
that's me I'm number fuckin' one, no sympathy for your weakness You chickenshit Fumbling, falling, I wanna hear you hit bottom Fumbling, falling, I wanna
Get on with it Put off the fuss, you chickenshit Get on with it Can't you see it's time to quit I seen three men hanging from a sycamore Their
I'm motherfucking chicken-shit To the ones that's tryna play the E By the time you get to seven, you'll be six feet deep Number Eight: Make no
know who let 'em in, it was Bill O'Reilly (Faggot) (Ya' white bread, chicken-shit nigga!) Who let these hoes in my room? (Who let these hoes in my
I'm motherfucking chicken-shit To the ones that's tryna play the E By the time you get to seven, you'll be six feet deep Number Eight: Make no
Fuck the Police Fuck the Police Fuck the Police The verdict : The jury has found you guilty of being a red-neck, white-bread, Chicken-shit motherfucker
a fuck. Take your stupid superstitions, And find some other paranoidal, Chickenshit, sissy, worm, and, tell it to him. Superstitious
Kids cruise away, pack of chickenshits This guy is ours, dark stains on his pants Enough to make a butcher out of the bone Take a walk in
superstitious I couldn't really give a fuck Take your stupid superstitions Find some other paranoidal, chickenshit Sissy, worm and tell it to him Superstitious
to help you in a squeeze Please, they got problems of their own Down for the count on seven chickenshits don't get to Heaven 'Til they faced these fears
to help you in a squeeze Please, they got problems of their own Down for the count on seven chickenshits don't get to Heaven 'Til they faced these fears
Hey I don't need no chickenshit business man tellin' me what to do Even if you ain't got no business same thing goes for you I don't need no
the leg he limping to the barn with Chickenshits Temper 'bout as thick as tips of pencils is, missiles to the picket fence Who spit as good fingerlickin'
Again and again, Chickenshit conformist Like your parents What's ripped us apart even more than drugs Are the thieves and the goddamn liars Flipping
Does it diminish your Super-capacity to love? Does it diminish your Super-capacity to love? Walk like a matador Don't be chicken-shit
the pond I thought I was smart I'm not I thought I was sick and dying Chicken-shit singers Paying their dues A circus mongrel sniffing for clues You
what you're looking for, I'm the one to Please Smoke Smoke me We're not fucking around That chicken-shit honey It was back at the smokehouse Back
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