Happy Camper (carpe B.u.m.) 歌词
| 歌曲 | Happy Camper (carpe B.u.m.) |
| 歌手 | Strapping Young Lad |
| 专辑 | Heavy As A Really Heavy Thing |
| 下载 | Image LRC TXT |
| 作曲 : Townsend | |
| You pretentious fucking losers | |
| You've got nothing at all | |
| You've got your fingers in your asshole | |
| And your hand on the call | |
| And you talk such fucking horseshit | |
| That it's hard to believe | |
| That you almost make careers out of being naive | |
| You, you are a fucker 'cause you sold my guitar | |
| You, you are a fucker, seeking fortune in bars | |
| You, you are a fucker, 'cause you say such stupid shit | |
| I've got a better line in pocket lint | |
| That what you've done with it | |
| So if you are an asshole who pretends to be a friend | |
| Then get your ass in music, you'll be set to the end, ending | |
| And now you've got the nerve to ask me about my temper? | |
| Why yes, I have become a fucking happy camper! | |
| I hate your fucking faces and your trendy cut hair | |
| I hate the fact you think your job will go anywhere | |
| Because its use is just the same as what I shit into the bowl | |
| Just like the mess between your ears is like the mess in my hole | |
| I hate your loser friends who only come out when it's right | |
| I hate that when it's down you run instead of fight | |
| I'm set to think your lot in life to test the stronger ones | |
| Will just require some chicken shit and also sneakers for the run | |
| I dig it away, the shit you puked instead of swallowed | |
| In an attempt to try and find the dick instead of the load | |
| So when you move and stand aside my mood will hamper | |
| And yes, I will become a fucking happy camper! | |
| Stuck in endless winter with your press to keep you sane | |
| Wait for useless numbers to grow useful once again | |
| Where the heat will come again, your flaw grows sick | |
| Your flaw will send, the shit you call your business | |
| To the place that is your end | |
| Stuck in the winter, cold and wet | |
| Your stupid friends have come and went | |
| And you're left behind with your idiot job | |
| And it's far from a prize, you fucking dink | |
| You're a fucking dink... yeah! | |
| How's this for punk? Dink! | |
| Suck my cock, you pathetic excuse for a human being | |
| You're a neurotic, homophobic, racist dork. You've also got a lot of balls to dick with someone else's life, you fucking pseudo-ghetto "boy in the hood" middle-class, white, spoiled-rotten bored "gangsta" wanna-be hunk of regenerated redneck bullshit! Thank Christ you don't have to rely on that staggering intellect or dynamic personality to intimidate others, Shit for Brains. Shut the fuck up, and get out of your parents' house and get a real job, you putz, and for god's sake, quit being such a fucking sheep! Now grow the hell up! | |
| ... Dink | |
| I let it get me down because you're in it for the glory | |
| And I'd rather leave with reason than go dying for a story | |
| And this whole L.A. rock thing | |
| That the malls are buying up | |
| It doesn't work, it doesn't work | |
| It's so inbred I might throw up | |
| And now I'm put into the middle | |
| With the contracts and the bunk, and I always end up hearing | |
| "Hey man, punk... let's have more punk!" | |
| So here I am to do a favour, save some hassle, kiss and tell | |
| That either way my music's shit and it ain't ever going to sell | |
| So if you've got the gall to take this shit blown up your ass | |
| And you've got the cash and balls to pump the same crap out en masse | |
| Then hell, I'll stand aside and with your plans I'll never tamper | |
| I'll sit and write you songs and be a fucking happy camper | |
| Yeah, send me out a contract and in clauses you will lurk | |
| The smaller points so I can give it all and save you work | |
| You say an album's not an album without issues left to hamper | |
| Well then, fuck | |
| I guess I am a fucking | |
| Happy | |
| Fucking | |
| Camper |
| zuo qu : Townsend | |
| You pretentious fucking losers | |
| You' ve got nothing at all | |
| You' ve got your fingers in your asshole | |
| And your hand on the call | |
| And you talk such fucking horseshit | |
| That it' s hard to believe | |
| That you almost make careers out of being naive | |
| You, you are a fucker ' cause you sold my guitar | |
| You, you are a fucker, seeking fortune in bars | |
| You, you are a fucker, ' cause you say such stupid shit | |
| I' ve got a better line in pocket lint | |
| That what you' ve done with it | |
| So if you are an asshole who pretends to be a friend | |
| Then get your ass in music, you' ll be set to the end, ending | |
| And now you' ve got the nerve to ask me about my temper? | |
| Why yes, I have become a fucking happy camper! | |
| I hate your fucking faces and your trendy cut hair | |
| I hate the fact you think your job will go anywhere | |
| Because its use is just the same as what I shit into the bowl | |
| Just like the mess between your ears is like the mess in my hole | |
| I hate your loser friends who only come out when it' s right | |
| I hate that when it' s down you run instead of fight | |
| I' m set to think your lot in life to test the stronger ones | |
| Will just require some chicken shit and also sneakers for the run | |
| I dig it away, the shit you puked instead of swallowed | |
| In an attempt to try and find the dick instead of the load | |
| So when you move and stand aside my mood will hamper | |
| And yes, I will become a fucking happy camper! | |
| Stuck in endless winter with your press to keep you sane | |
| Wait for useless numbers to grow useful once again | |
| Where the heat will come again, your flaw grows sick | |
| Your flaw will send, the shit you call your business | |
| To the place that is your end | |
| Stuck in the winter, cold and wet | |
| Your stupid friends have come and went | |
| And you' re left behind with your idiot job | |
| And it' s far from a prize, you fucking dink | |
| You' re a fucking dink... yeah! | |
| How' s this for punk? Dink! | |
| Suck my cock, you pathetic excuse for a human being | |
| You' re a neurotic, homophobic, racist dork. You' ve also got a lot of balls to dick with someone else' s life, you fucking pseudoghetto " boy in the hood" middleclass, white, spoiledrotten bored " gangsta" wannabe hunk of regenerated redneck bullshit! Thank Christ you don' t have to rely on that staggering intellect or dynamic personality to intimidate others, Shit for Brains. Shut the fuck up, and get out of your parents' house and get a real job, you putz, and for god' s sake, quit being such a fucking sheep! Now grow the hell up! | |
| ... Dink | |
| I let it get me down because you' re in it for the glory | |
| And I' d rather leave with reason than go dying for a story | |
| And this whole L. A. rock thing | |
| That the malls are buying up | |
| It doesn' t work, it doesn' t work | |
| It' s so inbred I might throw up | |
| And now I' m put into the middle | |
| With the contracts and the bunk, and I always end up hearing | |
| " Hey man, punk... let' s have more punk!" | |
| So here I am to do a favour, save some hassle, kiss and tell | |
| That either way my music' s shit and it ain' t ever going to sell | |
| So if you' ve got the gall to take this shit blown up your ass | |
| And you' ve got the cash and balls to pump the same crap out en masse | |
| Then hell, I' ll stand aside and with your plans I' ll never tamper | |
| I' ll sit and write you songs and be a fucking happy camper | |
| Yeah, send me out a contract and in clauses you will lurk | |
| The smaller points so I can give it all and save you work | |
| You say an album' s not an album without issues left to hamper | |
| Well then, fuck | |
| I guess I am a fucking | |
| Happy | |
| Fucking | |
| Camper |
| zuò qǔ : Townsend | |
| You pretentious fucking losers | |
| You' ve got nothing at all | |
| You' ve got your fingers in your asshole | |
| And your hand on the call | |
| And you talk such fucking horseshit | |
| That it' s hard to believe | |
| That you almost make careers out of being naive | |
| You, you are a fucker ' cause you sold my guitar | |
| You, you are a fucker, seeking fortune in bars | |
| You, you are a fucker, ' cause you say such stupid shit | |
| I' ve got a better line in pocket lint | |
| That what you' ve done with it | |
| So if you are an asshole who pretends to be a friend | |
| Then get your ass in music, you' ll be set to the end, ending | |
| And now you' ve got the nerve to ask me about my temper? | |
| Why yes, I have become a fucking happy camper! | |
| I hate your fucking faces and your trendy cut hair | |
| I hate the fact you think your job will go anywhere | |
| Because its use is just the same as what I shit into the bowl | |
| Just like the mess between your ears is like the mess in my hole | |
| I hate your loser friends who only come out when it' s right | |
| I hate that when it' s down you run instead of fight | |
| I' m set to think your lot in life to test the stronger ones | |
| Will just require some chicken shit and also sneakers for the run | |
| I dig it away, the shit you puked instead of swallowed | |
| In an attempt to try and find the dick instead of the load | |
| So when you move and stand aside my mood will hamper | |
| And yes, I will become a fucking happy camper! | |
| Stuck in endless winter with your press to keep you sane | |
| Wait for useless numbers to grow useful once again | |
| Where the heat will come again, your flaw grows sick | |
| Your flaw will send, the shit you call your business | |
| To the place that is your end | |
| Stuck in the winter, cold and wet | |
| Your stupid friends have come and went | |
| And you' re left behind with your idiot job | |
| And it' s far from a prize, you fucking dink | |
| You' re a fucking dink... yeah! | |
| How' s this for punk? Dink! | |
| Suck my cock, you pathetic excuse for a human being | |
| You' re a neurotic, homophobic, racist dork. You' ve also got a lot of balls to dick with someone else' s life, you fucking pseudoghetto " boy in the hood" middleclass, white, spoiledrotten bored " gangsta" wannabe hunk of regenerated redneck bullshit! Thank Christ you don' t have to rely on that staggering intellect or dynamic personality to intimidate others, Shit for Brains. Shut the fuck up, and get out of your parents' house and get a real job, you putz, and for god' s sake, quit being such a fucking sheep! Now grow the hell up! | |
| ... Dink | |
| I let it get me down because you' re in it for the glory | |
| And I' d rather leave with reason than go dying for a story | |
| And this whole L. A. rock thing | |
| That the malls are buying up | |
| It doesn' t work, it doesn' t work | |
| It' s so inbred I might throw up | |
| And now I' m put into the middle | |
| With the contracts and the bunk, and I always end up hearing | |
| " Hey man, punk... let' s have more punk!" | |
| So here I am to do a favour, save some hassle, kiss and tell | |
| That either way my music' s shit and it ain' t ever going to sell | |
| So if you' ve got the gall to take this shit blown up your ass | |
| And you' ve got the cash and balls to pump the same crap out en masse | |
| Then hell, I' ll stand aside and with your plans I' ll never tamper | |
| I' ll sit and write you songs and be a fucking happy camper | |
| Yeah, send me out a contract and in clauses you will lurk | |
| The smaller points so I can give it all and save you work | |
| You say an album' s not an album without issues left to hamper | |
| Well then, fuck | |
| I guess I am a fucking | |
| Happy | |
| Fucking | |
| Camper |
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