Round up, holler girl. Ah, I will sing.
Title TK, if I don't black out.

Dumb made for fucking and missing from the party.
That boy spun out.
Hold what you've got.

While Xenia twists up the sky,
Akron flakes out.
Grindcore, little fury,
I feel hot tire.
Why is it floating in my beer?
Hold what you've got.

My big drum on your big face,
The one-eyed jazz as hickeys fade.

Round up, holler girl..
We'll all need bigger uniforms.
It's been a few days
And I know I will have spun out.
Hold what you've got.

My big drum on your big face,
The one-eyed jazz as hickeys fade.
Grindcore, little fury, if I don't black out.

Hold what you've got.