Spin yarns, carve the face off a main event Spray that gibberish all around, it is slick Spin yarns, carve the face off a main event Graft on that phantom limb, it twists
Get Get Get a loosened grip Get a loosened grip Loosened grip
Temperature is scalding, needing scapegoats to diffuse And we all know a non-event's every kind of news But tell the baying throng the strays have rifled through
You can't lose You can't lose You can't lose
Ire Ire erupts from glad-handing the liars Ire erupts from glad-handing the liars Ire
Filthy fucking factoid epidemic sprouting norms And in the process, hobbling outcasts who already fell short But tell the baying throng the strays have run amok
