The Pricks

Do you speak English? Not tonight I speak Yiddish and reflect the light I am a line to your fist Whether it's heartfelt or sadistic A crack to the chin in a blaze of glory Knockout blood nose, dreamed little Georgie Well, little Georgie got short legs and his skin's turned pink He sounds like a trumpet wearing a wig In the bin, oh, little Georgie's in the bin Oh, I quivered and I melt I cracked my head on the floor And then I shook and I twitched And bile lеaked out the door And then I flеw to my feet And I feathered my wings I battered some balls in an undressing And then I ran hard, hard like a fist Into the pricks, into the pricks, oh, the pricks Ooh Do you speak English? Not today I speak quickly, and I speak far away I speak okay, but not all the time Sometimes, I'm like ice, other times, I'm on fire But sometimes, I'm the pricks Oh, I got myself bad chips Georgie fell off the ball just a little after I did But Georgie's chips were awful They stank like the poison and looked like nothing but lumps Which grew and grew, almost made me turn blue But cancer is immune to me and you Cancer is immune to me and you Cancer is immune to me and you Hello, how are you? How do you do?