Frank Guffaw

It was his last hurrah, he hit life raw dog

The public loves to guffaw, to chuckle at the cock and balls

Of a man naked on a stage too damn tall for all of y'all

Or a fail video documenting the fall of a demigod

From high as the heavens even

While anxiety leaves him barely breathing

Keep entertaining, kissing babies for no good fucking reason

Other than streaming

Six feet underground, six feet underground

Suddenly he got a six-figure monthly listener count

Algorithms love the sound of his bloated body now

Algorithms love the sound till the hashtag burns out

Quicker than Moroccan hash in a Hamburg squat house

Quicker than Moroccan hash in a Hamburg squat house

Nothing really touches you

You're living in a sewer, Frank

Day after day

Keep repeating, keep repeating the same words

Repeat them, Frank False

Till you're immortalized on a shirt

Keep repeating, keep repeating the same words

Repeat them, Frank False

Jesus Christ

It'll be Warhol in no time

Death is the best option

My work would be much more seriously looked at

Hope the world forgets your war crimes

When you're buried under dirt

Hope the world forgets your war crimes

When you're buried under dirt

Hope the world forgets your war crimes

When you're buried under dirt

They won't forget your war crimes