some q boy lies, delivers doubt from his thoughts and then he turns it into art
that's why society is doomed, guys marring the true side with the plea of a plight
hear their fucking blunder bout their choice to differ
depressed men want to ball, won't try to kiss girls

what is so different 'bout your plea?
cuz q wants exactly the same, that's what 'homo' means

some boy sits in the showers, he won't work out, no, in the locker room he'll park
in the whirlpool, sin is funner, he's blowing a cannon like a zealous little spite
the gays are children, though they've grown up, they're wasted
at naked stud-guys, grown men stare with antici - (say it) - pation!!!

there is no difference 'bout your plea
cuz you want a mack, want the same, to get your mind free

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