You're a sop
rano singing bass, my dear
A puzzle piece that won't fit in its space
But pieces of puzzles can be fixed,
my dear
Just beat them down until
they fit into place
Every person's greatest fear
There's nothing worse
than what's in here
Welcome to World of Warcraft!
The battle for your mind will be won,
my dear.
There's no saints or stoics,
no quaint, sweet heroics.
In World 1 .0 .1!
You're such a prima donna belle, my dear
But what the party wants is a chorus girl
Your mind is a crusty oyster shell, my dear
But smash it open and we'll
find a pearl
Drowning we can simulate,
mutil ate and asphyxiate.
It's the monkey,
the sobs of our gratifier.
The battle for your mind will be won,
my dear.
There's no saints or stoics,
no quaint, sweet heroics.
In Room 1L1
Smoking gamma
Pins in your thighs
Bleach on your tongue
Or ants in your eyes
Your soul's electric but
we'll cut the wires
Tear out your nostrils and nails with pliers
A furnace with flames of dark hellfire
More painful than hours
of musical satire.
Welcome to Room 101.
Smith to Room 101.
As you may have gleaned
from this foregoing expositional song,
Room 101
contains the worst thing in the world.
What could be worse
than what I've already
endured?
For everyone there is something unendurable,
merely an instinct which cannot
be destroyed.
It may be burial alive or death by fire.
In your case, squeak rats. No!
Oh, Brian, I'll do anything!
There's nothing left in me.
Nothing!
No aberrance, no defiance,
no desire for revenge or reprisal.
Winston, I've had it up to!
Reprisal, you say?
What a marvellous idea!
Hit it! Charrington, bring the rats
Rats make your heart go pitter -pat,
my friend
The jitters of a cat, a tonic fear
These rodents will dance their rat -a -tat,
my friend
Then tear apart your face from ear to ear
Eat your cheek, or bite your eyes,
They'll make you shriek,
they'll gorm and die.
And piss on the flesh of your tongue.
The battle for your mind has been won,
my dear.
You'll find your new mar tyr,
Per sona non grata.
You're insane, you're fanatical
This therapy's quite radical
Oh shucks, I'm so proud of that pun
He's so proud of that pun
Your fervid phobias are now advancing
Your fears surround you
and they're primed and prancing
No terror trumps the sight
of rats tap dancing
Not one martyr
By the parties in Pramada
Not one more time
Welcome to my world
No, no, please, no, no, no, no, no, no
Do it to Julia, do it to Julia, not me, Julia
Do it to Julia, do it to Julia