gays want fucked, that's all that they show
cruising for bodies, dusk til who knows
they're shaping up for a fantasy
the gays in their lounge, like my brother who's just sixteen
broken ties are felt when you're young
male ties that were broken won't often complete the men
feel so alone, your soul's really shattered indeed
(that's why gays are "proud")

you're out of touch, i'm out of rhymes
but they're back in my head when i'm back online
you're out of touch, i'm out of rhymes
but i chat with your heads, another i find
oh oh oh, oh oh oh

speaking out for someone to grope
looking for a fuck, like the birds of prey probe
manic dudes say lousy things
like "give me all your jizzum" upon the first meeting
smoking sluts, health means not much
would quit now if we didn't need fun so much
we so don't know, but know men can flatter our beings
(we're sluts)

you're out of touch and proud of blinds
cuz you're out of your head when you feel what's right
  an out of touch, ungrounded guy
so you're touting the left like it's really right
oh oh oh, oh oh oh

my mclyrics

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