Lyrics

The hazy laze persuasion was a cult of cultivation When the sloppy macro-saco masochistic kissing mystics Kissed the lips and hips so rich it tasted like the pithy pits of peaches Placed upon a proper copper coffee pots and pans I swing this swing and I wanna make the rules There's no such thing and I learned it all in schools Here comes the mouth The Fabers and the fables and the waiters at the tables Take a lesson from the daughters of the chambermaids who died A somewhat choosy chosеn jealous like their concubinеs who tell us To maintain that slacker shuffle when our laces are untied I swing this swing and I wanna make the rules There's no such thing and I learned it all in schools Here comes the mouth The curled-up pretenders and old ladies of both genders Have decided that their pridest tidy tidings are profound Have thus engaged in concentration and such solemn dedication To maintain that fragile angle which their nose makes with the ground I shimmy this shimmy and I wanna make the rules There's no such thing and I learned the truth in schools Here comes the mouth