We were a couple of friends covered by boils An ugly fat drummer And a makeshift screamer What a nuisance With that fucking metronome We played thrash cover In a terrible way After that we've met just mad musicians From the engineer to anchovy maniac 'Til we found the most blasphemous bass man In the history of this fucking, queer, unlucky band Who get us to do it Up yours The story continues Welcome to Madame Mim We make a shitty demo Where he sings like a hen My brother is too busy Enter skeleton man And we turn back to 1176 Big bang From large to the small size No bullshit, just metal or no metal, just bullshit Bass becomes the soundtrack of a silent film There is no way to take the right path Who get us to do it Up yours D'oh, Homer goes mad The primitives join in Followed by the hair ball And his dangerous breath Now we see no deals Neither with field glasses We are fed up to the keister with promises Gigs, yeah But wallets are still empty We are nearly pay to play In a pothouse full of dweebs Whyever no piece of skirt come to see our shows S.N.A.F.U.