If The Fucktards Are Winning

Of course, you need s a shield.

Against shit and disturbance.

No romance with stink.

It ain’t what you think.

You start out so dirty

So hurty and thick.

Insulated and Incubated.

You’re wax and this wick!

Burning those sick!

Spreading your dis-ease

Going where you please

Then blaming the place you are at.