Bomfallarella

Boom! Falleralla, boom! boom! falleralla, boom! boom! falleralla
Afa-fa-fasi and filthy
Boomfalleralla, falleralla, falleralla

I'm crashing down the street on a Pamplona bull
Heading towards a Pandora girl with a clit like an anabolic cock
And swinging the red curtain fluttering in the wind
And the flag waving and sticky foam on the cheek (shh)
I'm metallic razor blade, taste my tongue
As I will cut straight from the mouth like rabid dogs
Lightly armed with an artillery
That doesn't take, think or ever take your side
Af-af-asi holds a wake-up mass
In a school uniform so call and send your text
And hear me yawn like a hippopotamus
And when you run into scorching hot celebrity galas
I feel my stomach turning
Because of your genitals
If you stand in my way, please pay the congestion fee
Whether you are moderate or left-wing
Because we live in a whistling time that rushes by
Where I grow in the middle and everything else withers beside

Fuse, fire
Dry gunpowder and gasoline
Shu-shu-shuba-shuba-shuba
Snuff, porn & liquor
Ritch-ratch-filibom-bom-bom
Explodes like

I bare my chest, may you have time to butt me
So come on, resist before you regret
Bite off the large body artery
That transports oxygen to all the damn world's reality shows
It's boring to work so I sit and yodel
And gulp vodka with dish soap and fish liver oil
Suddenly the curtain goes down, oh no
There I am, squeezing the testosterone out of you
Then I find myself with your bootylicious big sister
Who is sleeping on the couch with her hair in buns
Would probably get caught like a burglar just pops up
Like a rewound synchronized diving chick
Pushing the limits when you strangers
Freeze for a body they've been through the five elements
But I am well prepared for what is to come
So I gear up and strike back with a bombing raid

You get punched in the face when we take a bite
And stand up against me with equally talented lyrics as a harlequin book
If I ever fall into the abyss, then I'll use the value card
All the way to the pearly gates
Where St. Peter is waiting with his hand on the gate
And a cold strong beer and a hot plate of hamburgers
And you can continue to stare at porn magazines
While I scatter crowds like a burning Rolf Lassgård

Boom, no flash

I am authoritarian like bulletproof vests and police badges
While you are useful like backpacks with mobile pockets
Herbert can do tricks and fix
Herbert can microwave a pizza
Herbert can cut and paste and sit and pee
I move easily in a country
I don't care and argue with everything
And sound like Styles P
But I stick to it and never let it
Go so far that I speak out in a weekly magazine
When my shit leaks out, it's you who back off
And ride a hearse, quickly urgent in a white-black culture
Haha, the truth hurts I know
But everyone represents a shitty country on a small planet