Oh yeah, why don''t you shoot?
Yeah, shoot
Oh yeah!

Indian Billy simple sin scratches across my skin
Soft gravel scratches cross my skin
It ain''t love, baby, that makes this martyr grin
Simply sick, where Billy''s been

Oh my soul, there''s a hole
Oh, my soul.

Sending psychic messages you can''t even hear
From my dumb mouth to your deaf ear
Sugar spit sentiment never even meant
We''ve all dragged our Jesus hair around

Oh my soul, there''s a hole
Oh, my soul
dust cake boy, boy, boy

Woah he wavers me something
God he wavers me something
God he fucks real mean
Mean

She screams out your name cause she sweats to be me
Has a crystalline cunt made of mint julep tea
You''re staring at something you''re never gonna see..
Take your small eyes away from me

Oh, my soul. There''s a hole
Oh my soul dust cake boy
boy
boy

Woah
Woah he fucks real mean
He fucks mean
He fucks mean...