Dirty Thoughts

By Complete

On Panic Disorder

Released on November 18, 2010

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[Intro: Complete]

Oi, Layla, why are people so fuckin’ narrow minded, yet they have the guts to say we’re fucked up?


[Chorus: Complete]

Some say I am disgusting

The sick and perverted sort

Well, I don’t give a fuckin’ shit

Cause I can’t stop these dirty, dirty thoughts

Some say I am disgusting

The sick and perverted sort

Well, I don’t give a fuckin’ shit

Cause I can’t stop these dirty, dirty thoughts


[Verse 1: Complete]

Thoughts gross, deeper than hoarse throats

Twisted like the cord when a fetus is born choked

I’d forge notes to my teacher and sports coach

Till they found me pleasin’ the school priest in a wardrobe

My missus’ lawn’s mowed firm, night and day

But it’s probably ‘cause she only turned five in May

I’m a strange kind of psycho, only fight with gays

‘Cause they’re likely to die quicker if combined with AIDS

My mind’s decayed, when I’m not abusin’ kids with Layla

I like to name my poos and introduce ‘em to my neighbour

Confusion’s in my nature, fuck provin’ that I’m greater

Regrets keep me fresh, like food in a container

Shoot me with a taser, ‘cause I need a be shocked

Believe it or not, I wanna make this freak in me stop

‘Cause I doubt you’ll ever see my CD in a shop

But you can see me bleed from my cock

On your street, asleep with your dog


[Chorus: Complete]

Some say I am disgusting

The sick and perverted sort

Well, I don’t give a fuckin’ shit

Cause I can’t stop these dirty, dirty thoughts

Some say I am disgusting

The sick and perverted sort

Well, I don’t give a fuckin’ shit

Cause I can’t stop these dirty, dirty thoughts


[Verse 2: Layla]

I got dirty thoughts, like sperm in a horse

After churnin’ out Pharlap’s and girthin’ his corpse

Cream yeast in your face with cottage cheese drawers

[?] strap on [?], of course

Serve up my herring with berries, weak three

Wear confetti as sheets, with my cheap bloody Maries

Freeze turds for dildos, but keep no size varies

Depending on how much I eat of my bloke’s hairy

Stick finger, pink bitch, touch up my big stick

Convince [?] to slam the shorts of a midget

Jam seven inches up a reverend’s vas deferens

And pray to all the medicines his altar boy revenges him

It’s common fact often the last comet spat

Does gobby, smack staff, can’t fathom an office chat

[?] when I got so warped on tap

Maybe when the cord got wrapped

Bus blew out my mother’s gash


[Chorus: Complete]

Some say I am disgusting

The sick and perverted sort

Well, I don’t give a fuckin’ shit

Cause I can’t stop these dirty, dirty thoughts

Some say I am disgusting

The sick and perverted sort

Well, I don’t give a fuckin’ shit

Cause I can’t stop these dirty, dirty thoughts


[Outro: Complete]

Layla SBX, Complete TPW, we get dirty fuckin’ thoughts, ha. This beat reminds me of rabbit sex, man, it’s weird. Sorry, I can just picture rabbits fuckin’ in my head for some reason, it’s weird. Alright