Son of a gun and knife and bomb    Son of a bitch earned every stitch    Son of a father's son yes I know I'm one    Now it's time to pull the switch       Touch with your eyes drool with my eyes    Touch with your mind drool with my mind    Touch with your eyes drool with my eyes    Touch with my mind drool with your eyes    Pornsmanship and sales filtrate    Shoulder blades and things concave    And every smile that marks a lie    Dressed in silk and flavored milk    Bred in bone and finely honed    To always sell what we can't own