Fucking mortals On the roads In shiny metal boxes And human hoards
Do they not know which way to go Fuck off all of you A god is coming through
He rides a bike made of black fire The oil of lust, exhaust if desire Clad in black leather like a god should God or a demon? Depends on his mood
The humans they stare before they are trodden They lie in his wake all dying and broken The women, oh man, they cry out his name But to him the mortals, they are all the same. -=-=-=-=- Laugh! fuckers!!