My Pet Monster
There are cherries, ripe for the picking.
America’s losing, meth recipes cooking.
Oh excuse me miss, can I buy you a drink?
Just don’t mind the bitter after taste.
Oh no, the joke’s on you.
You’re now infected with the dirty south plague.
Fathers grab your daughters, ‘cause the boys are back in town.
Wake up, let’s stop.
I just wanna go home, and I’ve been sick for the past six months.
Twelve days, been up, just the monster and me,
and I just wanna get some sleep.
Wake up, don’t go.
Wake up, Monster, don’t go.
