[Verse 1] Drip, drip, drip, the liquor slip, slip, slips down the throat of a prepubescent pope. [Verse 2] Slipped into the lungs of a broken-winged bird, my poison deserves more words— it is words. [Verse 3] Indecisiveness— the bullets miss and lodge at mom’s house only to espouse absurd words to a louse. “Reinvent yourself! Useless spouse!” "Tiny mouse!" The chore’s not thinking, it’s the mouth. You figure it out! [Bridge] Sedentary / Sedimentary— growth is foreign to a worm who forgot how to squirm. How does one eat without a mouth? Slower than a fire doused. [Verse 4] No more riddles— I hate myself! The lack of doubt about any other human's sauerkraut and the foolish drought of progress on my chosen route. [Outro] POUT! POUT POUT
