[Music: N. Evaristo / Lyrics: N. Armstrong, N. Evaristo]
What's the point of writting lyrics?
No one reads them anyway
Pretentious bastards, mindless Punks
Pretend they have shit to say
Short as f*ck - as f*ck
Short as f*ck - f*cked
Short as f*ck
Short is the way to go
And that is short as f*ck
Cut through the f*ckin bullshit
Now i'm singing random words
Hoping that the chorus comes soon
'Cos my inspiration as left
What?