The stock is empty In our eyeball store All we got left A few cataracts and sores The faggot mimic machine Never had ideas Mission impossible They self destruct on fear On a standard new york night Ghouls go to see their so called stars A fairly stupid thing To pay 5 bucks for a 4th rate imitators They say, Im so empty No surface, no depth Oh, please, can I be you Your personalitys so great Like new buildings Square tall and the same Sorry, miss stupid Didnt you know it was a game Im just waiting For them to hurry up and die Its really getting to crowed here Help me new york stars Contributions accepted all the same We need new people store Remember, were very good at games
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