War! (Bomb Gragor)

No socks, no socks, no
Submarine Man
The footis are going to war
The footis are going to war
Bomb the lands of Gragor
The footis pull up and roar
In the night, go to the Sock Club
And I cut all the smeeting stockings up
Footis all worship the Sub
Drink the smeet smoothie in the cup
The stockings don't belong here, they are scum
Not liking feet is pretty dumb
Beat on the socks until they go numb
Beat on the socks like the beat of a drum
See the stocking, slash it with a sword
I played Killer like I play my chords
All the footis love me, they give me awards
I am Old Man Dad, Footi lord!
Oh!
Bomb Gragor!
Bomb Gragor!
Bomb Gragor!
Bomb Gragor!
Bomb Gragor!
No Socks!
Bomb Gragor!