P.C.

You know what pisses me off more than anything is all these people who aren't exactly politically correct
Like the other day, I was out walking my Siberian-American huskies, and you know how canines are; they like to
Sniff everything, including each other's butts
And some guy walks up and he goes, "MAN, get your dog's ass out of that other dog's nose!"
So I replied, "How dare you call them dogs! They're Siberian-American huskies. That's like calling an African-American a black
Or that's like calling a Mexican-American a Mexican. Or worse yet, it's like calling a homosexual a stupid faggot!"
It pissed me off so bad that I died my hair blue, got a nose ring and moved to
San Francisco!

My bus is broken down
My spirit's broken too
My girl's by my side
So I don't feel so blue
Thirty miles more
To make it to the city
Where junk is king
And the air smells shitty

You know I like it

What a friendly town
It really suits us well
It took some getting used to
That fucking hippy smell
Everyone corrects me
Every time I speak
I'm sick and fucking tired
Of stupid L.A. geeks

I like it
I like it
I like it
I like it, yes I do

I say it's not an issue
It doesn't shed much light
On a global scale
It isn't worth the fight
The tongue that girl speaks
Is forked to you and me
That bitch has got a problem
I think it's called P.C