Take stuff from work.Its the best way to feel better about your job.Never buy pens or pencils or paper.Take em from work.Rubber bands paper clips memo pads folders-take em from work.Its the best way to feel better about your low pay and appalling working conditions.Take an ashtray-they got plenty.Take coat hangers.Take a take a trash can.Why buy a file cabinet?Why buy a phone?Why buy a personal computer or word processor?Take em from work.I took a whole desk from the last place I worked.They never noticed and it looks great in my apartment.Take an electric pencil sharpener.Take a case of white-out; you might need it one day.Its your duty as an oppressed worker to steal from your exploiters.Its gonna be an outstanding day.Take stuff from work.And goof off on the company time.I wrote this at work.Theyre paying me to write about stuff I steal from them.Life is good.

I am a sensitive artist.Nobody understands me because I am so deep.In my work I make allusions to books that nobody else has readMusic that nobody else has heardAnd art that nobody else has seen.I cant help it because I am so much more intelligent and well-roundedThan everyone who surrounds me.I stopped watching tv when I was six months oldBecause it was so boring and stupidAnd started reading booksAnd going to recitals and art galleries.I dont go to recitals any moreBecause my hearing is too sensitiveAnd I dont go to art galleries anymoreBecause there are people thereAnd I cant deal with peopleBecause they dont understand me.I stay home reading books that are beneath meAnd working on my work which no one understands.I am sensitive.

1 21 2 3 4I was a teenage wussIn junior high schoolI had oily stringy hair and lots of pimplesI wore really wussy clothesMost of the kids called me a faggotEven some of the other wusses called me a faggotThere was maybe five kids in the whole schoolWho were wussier than I wasI was really wussed outI was afraid of girlsAnd guys scared the shit out of meThey used to say to meWhat are you queer?They wanted me to fight to prove I wasnt a faggotBut I didnt fight I ran awayI was a wussI was never good at any sports at allI never took showers after gym classI wore my gym clothes under my regular clothesSo I wouldnt have to change in front of everybody elseI was afraid to realize my full potential in schoolBecause to the other kidsThe smarter you were the wussier you wereI was a hopeless wussWuss wuss wussI was into science fiction and math and chessIt was not fun being a wussAnd even nowNow that Im not nearly as much of a wuss as I once wasI still feel kind of wussy from time to timeResidual wussinessThe kind of thing you can never really leave behindThats the way it goes...

The Heavy Holy Man sits on the hillHolding hard wooden ball.Hears mysteries of the universe unfolding but blocks it all out.He has one eye pointed toward the skyAs the other searches over the earthFor dinner.Without ever once leaving his hillThe Heavy Holy Man has sampled fast food from all over western EuropeWimpyburgers from LondonWonderburgers from DublinAnd his favorite Hitburgers from ParisWhich he ate whenever he had some free time.This particular day howeverThe Heavy Holy Man travelled to AmsterdamTo FebosWhere he put one and a half guilders in the slotOpened the little doorAnd pulled out his Feboburger and FebonapkinAll without ever leaving the hill.Then the Heavy Holy Man smiledHis faith reaffirmed once again.All the treasures of this or any other world are mine for the askingHe thought to himself.

I cant relate to peopleWho rush to catch the trainSo much strainFor such a momentary gainWhy not just onceTry to live a dayIn a leisurely wayLike in those paintings byDuboffetFluting on the humpFluting on the humpLike an Arab taking a ride on a camelFluting on the humpFluting on the humpFluting on the humpLike an Arab taking a slow rideFluting on the humpFluting on the humpFluting on the humpLike a desert man riding on the sand on a camelFluting on the hump(and then the second chorus again yeah yeah yeah)

Dick was obsessed with his dick.He would beat off at least three times a dayIn the morning when he woke upRight after or right before dinnerAnd right before he went to sleep.If he didnt get in his three daily beat-off sessionsHe was a pain in the ass to be around.He jerked off to tv-Especially Mary Tyler Moore and Dynasty and Charlies Angels;He pulled his pud to porno books;He even jerked offTo the underwear adsIn the magazine section of the Sunday New York Times.If you were a girl talking to him on the phoneChances are he was beating his meat to the sound of your voice.Cause coming was his raison detre.One time he was in the middle of jerking off to Vanna White on Wheel of FortuneWhen a job offer came to him over the phoneAnd he needed a job badBut he told the man hed call him right backCause he needed to come more than he needed the job.And it wasnt that he was ugly or afraid of women or anything like thatHe just honestly preferred his right hand.I saw him the other dayAnd he told me that last friday he was with two girls at their placeAnd they both wanted him to stay over.But he went homeCalled up another girland jacked off while talking to her.I dont know why he tells me this shit.Dicks a fucked up guy.

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Lyricist- Hit Lyricists Now Fogotten

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Album- Selected Hits For All Moods

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Ich traf eine Frau in einer Disco.Wir kifften zu dem Sound von Sven Franzisko.Unsere Blicken gingen tief.Es war klar, das hier was lief.Ich wußte, heute Nacht geht garantiert nichts schief.Nach einigem Geplänkel gingen wir zu ihr.Ich wollte nur noch eins und war bereit dafür.Sie war jung und wund ...

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Posted on 28 Mar 2025, this text provides information on Selected Hits For All Moods related to Hit Lyricists Now Fogotten. Please note that while accuracy is prioritized, the data presented might not be entirely correct or up-to-date. This information is offered for general knowledge and informational purposes only, and should not be considered as a substitute for professional advice.

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Take stuff from work.It's the best way to feel better about your job.Never buy pens or pencils or paper.Take 'em from work.Rubber bands, paper clips, memo pads, folders-take 'em fr...Read Full Lyrics

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