Críticos

Hey, Critic always sitting
Reading and listening is not enough
Come here, come here
Always in your seat talking about everyone
You're some kind of little god
You don't give your opinion, you give your blessing
And if you have a bad breakfast in your lair
You throw your snakes at everyone
Yours is the power, yours is the space on the paper
Critics, ha, ha
The top forty are our target
I want to marry you because you're rotten
Critics, ha, ha