I Wipe My Ass with Showbiz 歌词

	作曲 : Angelini, Levesque, Pereira ...
	Live like a legend and die like an asshole.
	You dance with the man, shake his hand, shine his shoes.
	The revolution rock hits sound like shit through your i
	Pod. "Put fists up like I got, now gimme the loot."
	How I tried to buy my soul back, but the devil bent me over for it.
	Got me curled up in the shower scratching the letters that read:
	Dear mother,
	I sold my soul for management.
	Fog blasts will not mask a stage act unnatural.
	Those timed jumps cause merch bumps, now guests list the suits.
	And past the smoke hangs the backdrop, crowd screams holy mackerel.
	Verse-chorus, verse-chorus, a solo, then boom.
	How I tried to buy my soul back, but the devil bent me over for it.
	Got you curled up in the shower scratching the letters that read:
	Dear mother,
	I sold my soul for management.

	zuo qu : Angelini, Levesque, Pereira ...
	Live like a legend and die like an asshole.
	You dance with the man, shake his hand, shine his shoes.
	The revolution rock hits sound like shit through your i
	Pod. " Put fists up like I got, now gimme the loot."
	How I tried to buy my soul back, but the devil bent me over for it.
	Got me curled up in the shower scratching the letters that read:
	Dear mother,
	I sold my soul for management.
	Fog blasts will not mask a stage act unnatural.
	Those timed jumps cause merch bumps, now guests list the suits.
	And past the smoke hangs the backdrop, crowd screams holy mackerel.
	Versechorus, versechorus, a solo, then boom.
	How I tried to buy my soul back, but the devil bent me over for it.
	Got you curled up in the shower scratching the letters that read:
	Dear mother,
	I sold my soul for management.

	zuò qǔ : Angelini, Levesque, Pereira ...
	Live like a legend and die like an asshole.
	You dance with the man, shake his hand, shine his shoes.
	The revolution rock hits sound like shit through your i
	Pod. " Put fists up like I got, now gimme the loot."
	How I tried to buy my soul back, but the devil bent me over for it.
	Got me curled up in the shower scratching the letters that read:
	Dear mother,
	I sold my soul for management.
	Fog blasts will not mask a stage act unnatural.
	Those timed jumps cause merch bumps, now guests list the suits.
	And past the smoke hangs the backdrop, crowd screams holy mackerel.
	Versechorus, versechorus, a solo, then boom.
	How I tried to buy my soul back, but the devil bent me over for it.
	Got you curled up in the shower scratching the letters that read:
	Dear mother,
	I sold my soul for management.

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