Flattery vs. Battery Letra

won't continue to coach.

You're all a dime a dozen.
and not in the Darrell way.
You connivingly cozen
and you act totally gay.

Maraud.
Your efforts all amount
to fraud.
The true metalheads won't
applaud.

The more of you that swindle.
The less of us that dwindle.
True musicians don't filch.
You lot will reach to zilch.

Loot, like you don't give a hoot.
Hoot, when you see a babe's fruit.
Loot, as if my point is moot.
Toot, so a guy knows he's beaut.

You trendy scene guys love to flash a pose
so all the trendy scene gals suck your hose.

Purloin
so you can score enough
viagra and vagina for
your groin.
Even then you hunger for more
penis and pussy so you
rummage
so you can bag enough
cocks and clits for your
bummage.

It agitates me, seeing all you posers pinch
without a flinch.
It aggravates me, thinking you do all this to
make us unhinge.
It irritates me, knowing that I could end you
with a lynch.

Rustle
then there can be even
more dickies and titties for you to
hustle
although with that said, you will
get into a chaotic and cathartic
tussle
with all the metalheads that
form quite a collective and destructive
muscle.

The underlying aspect of homage
should not be so confused with image.
The never-ending mileage to gain coolage
is like a pillage in a village.
One shouldn't strive for the privilege
to obtain another's rightful lineage.