Words and music by Seth Warren

No One Expects An Inquisition

You’d better watch your ass, kid – you’d better watch your step
The fact that you’re still moving means I’m not through with you yet
A high of paranoia won’t serve you all too well
Despite your efforts, I will drag you with me straight to hell
There’s too many self-absorbed cunts in this town
Too many special snowflakes snorting up entitlement
There’s an awful dearth of self-flagellation
But spoiled children tend to become self-absorbed adults

I’ll get you back
I’ll get you back
You’ll never see it coming
I’ll get you back
I’ll get you back
Somehow, I’ll think of something

The name you read is “Beldam,” the thought simply, “drop dead”
You twitch and writhe, feel sick and despite it you take a step
I hold an air of poison: a choking radius
You don the mask but still you gasp all vertigo and dust
There’s too many adult babies in the play room
They make a mess and think that someone else should clean it up
There’s a huge surplus on pitching a tantrum
Blaming others for your woe is the easiest way out


Copyright © 2011 Seth Warren