Upstart in middleclass hell
Where do you belong?
It's nothing personal just shut up
I'm so sick of you going on and on
Foulmouth and your stupid hairdo
Who are you to dictate
Starstruck by the mighty hand
Of everything predictable
Godsent, i don't think so
Even if you were, it wouldn't matter
Hatred is so much more useful
You'll see if you ever come around

And your work may be profound
But i hate the way you sound

Tried hard not to be affected
But you had to prove a point
And took it to the limit
Where i lost my cool
So when i find the tools
I drill a hole in you
And see the sun shine through

And your work may be profound
Still i hate the way you sound