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lyrics

Mullin' around - I see it 'bout every day.
Got nothin' to do - you're goin' to an early grave.
You think you're so cool - just standin' 'round 'n sayin' "hey".

It's always the same - you sit around and bitch and rant.
And scroungin' around - you'd try to hock your last pair of pants.
"Can I have a butt?" you'd ask for about the thousandth time.
You sleep in all day - sloth will soon erode your mind.
No wonder you can't - get off your ass and to' da line.

Podgy - get goin'.

Stupid lazy-ass nosepicker:
Droolin' on the fuckin' cushions.
Better not drop your Night Star!
Can't even fucking sit up.
Your chin disappears into your neck.
You talk with a gurgle.
Wheezing keeps you from dying.
You pathetic heap of inert shit!

Rollin' off the couch - you sleep on it for way too long.
You won't move an inch - except when you reef from the bong.
Your brain wastes away - "Traders" is your favourite show.
It's good that you're poor - or else you'd blow it all on blow.
Then after a while - "how to fart" is all you know.

credits

from Tales from Tofugraphic Oceans, released December 1, 1997
Lyrics by the drummer
Music by the band

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about

Soy Victoria, British Columbia

Soy formed in 1996, put out a cassette and a 7-inch, toured a bit, broke up in '97, reunited in '11, and played a few shows and recorded some new stuff in '12. Scheduled to break up again in '14, so enjoy it while you can. RIP Richard Dunn.

Drums/Vocals: Doug
Guitar: Paul
Bass/Vocals: Cruiser ... more

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