Lyrics

Men of flesh hitch a ride Shorts and tans and greasy thighs At night drive into slimy bars And piss it out on our front yards They're looking in our window now Real child of hell Nobody's seen him Real child of hell Real child of hell Nobody knows what shape she takes St. Paddy's Day, old Irish man Shamrocks painted on his face He mumbles warnings from Ireland In the back I sense a fight And that old man has done his deed Real child of hell Nobody's seen him Real child of hell Real child of hell Nobody knows what shape she takes This stage I'm on gets repossessed Vigilantes acting bored The mindless fan wants my dress And I can't tell which one is worse And I can't see the cursing child Real child of hell Nobody's seen him Real child of hell Real child of hell Nobody knows what shape she takes