DJ Krypto - Pa**ing Over lyrics

(DAVID: I don't want to do these anymore.-PETE: Oh, don't be silly. -I'm not being silly, Pete. It's just demeaning. It's a load of idiots.-They loved you. -They didn't love me, they didn't care. If they love me, why were they throwing stuff? Throwing water, plastic bottles, underpants. One bloke threw a pair of Y-fronts, hit me in the face, yeah, and I knew it was Nutella or Marmite he'd smudged on the gusset. But it was still him going, "That's what we think of you mate. You're sh**.") [from The Office - Christmas special] [Boxguts] Crash your splash, red waves under surfboards Smash sprinkler stakes through face during turf wars Machete swing at your king, my team murk yours Your weak sh** ain't cutting it with your f**ing Nerf swords Perverse thoughts gets slors to squirt for us The industry needs more sleaze working these who*es like a workhorse Dirt pours through floors The Earth's laws Burstin cores through their source Like birth when I exert force Surfaces scorched Burnt towards Where all their curling nerves formed Reverse the torch March and alert cursed hordes With curved horns Carve, invert And then serve gourds To cyborgs who curse thy Lord Pry and insert forks High on my high horse lost This hearse warm I'm sure like furs warn Sure, these herbs strong Boy I'm getting my swerve on Chauffeur a foul pile of corpses around in a universe galore Birds torn, absurd p**n It's pure raw We're all germs spawned, deformed Abnorm gore And every serpent around here want to slither through the church doors (Nothing. I was chained to a radiator. Boring. Next. And what's he done since? Nothing. I've got anecdotes. I've got stuff to say, if people would listen, but they won't.) [more from The Office - Christmas special] [Jak Tripper] Yo Ascending Earth God I got an Armageddon gas rag At the saviour's birth spot Ready to burn the first plot I'll bird watch Fly over the Benefit of Mr. Kite Ringing out ergot Bergamot suitcase to herb spot This heavy as 9000 BC The first trip off of the smurf tops I'm on a couch, good for nothing Like a burnt Pops Nerves shot By the door watching Apparitions turn knobs I'm hay baling hooks behind bars With shank poking Spitting molten, occultic Groupies can s** me stiff, blowing Stiff, I got a basement With dead strippers stiff below it Shedding skin, molting Front yard garden of roses Exposing hands: sticking out emulsion Write every verse claustrophobic Like I was snowed in A wicked omen Big black barrel Looking like a witch's cauldron (Now if that's a waste of money "but it is a waste of money cause you didn't even get on top on to it." Good, didn't want it to. Next.) [more from The Office]