Fugazi — F/D

Son of a gun and knife and bomb Son of a bitch earned every stitch Son of a father's son, yes I know I'm one Now it's time to pull the switch Touch with your eyes, drool with my eyes Touch with your mind, drool with my mind Touch with your eyes, drool with my eyes Touch with my mind, drool with your eyes Pornsmanship and sales filtrate Shoulder blades and things concave And every smile that marks a lie Passed in cold is real desire Dressed in silk and flavored milk Bred in bone and finely honed Selling, but we always sell What we always sell, what we can't own Touch with your eyes, drool with my eyes Touch with your mind, drool with my mind Touch with your eyes, drool with my eyes Touch with my mind, drool with your eyes (No Surprise end hits, take one.) (Let's go!) (Go ahead.)