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