Some times normality
might be a formality
Formed in heads of cabbage
who can't handle their own
negative baggage
Their nose go up
figuring everyone else corrupt
When their bullchit stinks worse
but others they curse

They act and feel like
they are God's gift to earth
but been screwed up
every since birth
Uncover the total package
there might not be a nickels worth
Sit your ten cent azz down
before someone makes change
You're no better and just as strange

Let he without sin cast the first rock
stand back and watch millions will
jump on the perfect clock
As the clock ticks on into the future
their bullchit will continue to nurture
and let it be no surprise
they're walking around in disguise
viewing you with some type despise
through wide open blood shot eyes
fumbling even their own tries

opg