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
  Dressed in silk and flavored milk
  Bred in bone and finely honed
  To always sell what we can't own