Lyrics:
all traditional societies
Now you know what we call a person
Who behaves that way
A stuffed shirt a stuffed shirt
A person who
Behaves as he ought
Stuffed shirts, status hurts, we ain't fooling
Let the sequels have their day
The remake's on its way
We're living in Escher's world it seems
We're
blood squirt
Stuffed shirt, hang me on a tree
After I count down, three rounds
In hell I'll be in good company
Dead Love couldn't go no further
blood squirt
Stuffed shirt, hang me on a tree
After I count down, three rounds
In hell I'll be in good company
Dead Love couldn't go no further
to play no heavy jazz
With high class music
And its stuffed shirt nights
'Cause I want to be a rock 'n roll star
And make my money out of playing'
under cover, make your baby mama love us
Knot in my right pocket, left pocket got them rubbers
Right hand Rolex watch, stuffed shirt plastic glock
Back
Make your baby mama love us
Knot in my right pocket
Left pocket got them rubbers
Right hand Rolex watch
Stuffed shirt plastic glock
Back pocket
late
I'm not an ambulance chaser, unless I have to be
My job's a tough one, it's garnering apathy
From the stuffed shirt mercantile system wisdom
[Chorus]
I'm out of the business
Out of the business
Into rock and roll.
All right, 'bout time,
Stuffed shirts where the sun don't shine,
Late
stuffed shirt with a BB calendar for a heart
That's alright, Dad, I'm so mad I could fight every man in this room
The patient came to me with a large hole
the stuffed shirt who keeps talking about
Vienna '61, the stupid Bay of Pigs, Powers and his plane
That's over and done and it's been eight years since Dien
on his toll-free number
Rub shoulders with the town of wonder
Dance the night away
Move move move with me
Swing and sway
High heels
Short skirt
Stuffed
WANDER THE STREETS ON A PERFECT MONDAY
GARBAGE TRUCKS BEEPIN', BUSES ARE RUMBLIN'
SO I ASKED THE STUFFED SHIRT, HEY WHAT'S YOUR FAVORITE COLOR
WANDER THE STREETS ON A PERFECT MONDAY
GARBAGE TRUCKS BEEPIN', BUSES ARE RUMBLIN'
SO I ASKED THE STUFFED SHIRT, HEY WHAT'S YOUR FAVORITE COLOR
left for a felon but
To shut up or hang?
When it's don a stuffed shirt or
Go bust up a bank? Well I'm a hick, sure
Irascible prick who'll
Stick it
a back-seat driver
Always knowing the cure
In fact you are the poison
That I cannot endure you're simply snooty
Too big for your boots
You're a stuffed shirt
through my wall to the next room
while I dress for dinner
but when I'm stuck in conversation
with stuffed shirts whose adoration
hurts my ears, where are
through my wall to the next room
While I dress for dinner
But when I'm stuck in conversation
With stuffed shirts whose adoration
Hurts my ears, where are
You’re a stuffed shirt in a town car
Selling top shelf slicked-back junk bonds
You’re a horse thief with a diploma
Just a wolf with a sheep skin
my closet and found a red robe
Made a beard out of cotton, stuffed my shirt with pillows
And drove to my girl's house
I slipped down the chimney
that's been stuffed in my pants and shirt
But tryin' to make sense of phone numbers, scribbled on the backs of old cards
I guess we ought to be thankful,
from the back, then I skrrr skrrr
Young boys fucking up, they don't learn
Section on my T-shirt
Big racks stuffed in my D squares (Racks!)
I pull
she should ignore
But nobody will care
She can iron a shirt out
That's stuffed with a senator
Or a Congressman there
God bless America for Missus Sally
Scrutinizing every little bit of dirt
Tore out a page and stuffed it inside my shirt
I fled outta the window
And shinning it down the vine
Outta her
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