You Do What You Love, Or You

My Week Beats Your Year.

You Know, Some People Got No Choice, And They Can Never Find A Voice, To Talk With That They Can Even Call Their Own. So The First Thing That They See, That Allows Them The Right To Be, Why They Follow It, You Know, It's Called Bad Luck.

Give Me Your Hungry, Your Tired, Your Poor, That's What The Statue Of Bigotry Says. Your Poor Huddled Masses, Let's Just Club Them To Death, And Get It Over With.

Research, Research, Research. It Means Everything.

Kill Them Now, Cause I Need Some Kicks. I Need Some Kicks, I'm Getting Bored.