Оригинален текст
All aboard, the ride goes faster,
being driven by the spooky b*stard,
look left, dirt infested,
living large with the debt invested.
Gung ho, Mr. Murder,
could be a while but you look no further,
snip, snip, scissor quickstep,
cut the line, you are out of your depth.
Bring home the bacon b*stard,
a meaty fringe in a leather casket,
fk that - I eat my offspring,
hang myself on a leather heartstring.
Cut the page from the new york times,
see I'm not so bad after all,
you'll never get held in my outstretched arms,
cos I won't catch you when you fall,
pull the trigger at your picnic table,
take the scissors from your baby doll,
you'll never get to heaven with a face like that,
and I won't catch you when you fall.
Flick flick, another station,
listen hard but I'm losing patience,
another aim, absurdist brainwash,
another bent pair of scissor (?)
Sick baby - move at a hearbeat,
when I'm blood on a (?) bedsheet,
blood b*tch (?) reflex,
another bent pair of scissor defects.
Here baby - I'm out to get you,
a broken heart in a broken test tube,
a virus scare for those who care,
don't look alive cos you'll go nowhere.
Cut the page from the new york times,
see I'm not so bad after all,
you'll never get held in my outstretched arms,
'cos I won't catch you when you fall,
pull the trigger at your picnic table,
take the scissors from your baby doll,
you'll never get to heaven with a face like that,
and I won't catch you when you fall.