Trashmachine - Bad Stuff

The night of mares I got up lately You ask what happen? God damned! Fuck off! Tormentors - cooks Push into throats Top-hole poison Cooked of sheet I have a cruel indigestion A furious pain has cut me up My nose is clogged with bloody vomit's My head is swiming. That's the Hell! I'm dying, Fuckin' baby Course murders hot-dog Attaked my hungry body An intoxicated me Bad Stuff! I'm feeling my abdomen! Bad Stuff! I wanna defecation! Bad Stuff! I shall eat nothing! Bad Stuff! I realy hate the world! A morbit thought Has crossed my mind That all these skunks Are a new kind Of the weapons Of mass elimination Created by the enemies Of the mankind Hey! Force them eat Their own cooking I wanna see Their convulsion A com grew on my arse My toilette is flooded Hey, baby, call the doctor He'll sew my pour anus Bad Stuff! I'm feeling my abdomen! Bad Stuff! I wanna defecation! Bad Stuff! I shall eat nothing! Bad Stuff! I realy hate the world!