The Ballad of Diarrhea

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He hides his face behind a mask; he hides behind a gun.

We call him Diarrhea 'cause he's always on the run.

He likes to think he's big and tough; he'll fool us if he can.

But he's really just a pussy crook. He ain't much of a man.

    We all know Diarrhea is the loosest kind of slut.

    He spends long hours making out, kissing his own butt.

    He scrawls his lover's name on walls and wherever else he can,

    letting everybody know he'll never be a man.

He acts just like a two-year old; he's just a nasty jerk.

He wants to go and play all day and doesn't want to work.

He thinks that we should pamper him; he'll use us if he can.

He's never going to get a job and work just like a man.

    He likes to throw a tantrum. He'll go into a rage

    if people don't acknowledge that he's at center stage.

    He thinks it makes him look real tough to hurt folks when he can.

    He's dumb enough to think it makes him much more than a man.

Diarrhea's luck ran out; he robbed a nervous man.

The victim dropped his wallet, then turned around and ran.

Diarrhea fired one shot; the man fell down and died.

Now Diarrhea must run away and find a place to hide.

    There goes Diarrhea. He's got no time to stop.

    That stranger on the corner might be a plainclothes cop.

    He's got to run; he's got to hide. He has no other plan.

    He's never going to have a chance to be much of a man.

The cops caught Diarrhea in the middle of the night.

And "big, tough" Diarrhea gave up without a fight.

Scared the cops would shoot him, he could no more pretend.

Yeah, our boy Diarrhea was a pussy to the end.

    In prison he is lonely, his days filled with despair.

    His homies never visit and no one seems to care.

    We're better off without him. Forget him if you can.

    'Cause he never had the brains or guts to be much of a man.

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