Paper Slippers Songtext / Lyric

You may be a dead beat

But don't be

A dead beat on my street.

You leave your messes everywhere and

Why must you insist on needlin' me?

You feed the insecurity

And hold us all to ransom.






Don't believe a word

That you invented

To torture yourself.

You enjoy the pain,

Enjoy the suffering,

That you impose

On the world.



Don't think you're any good

For me

Or you.



Order the scrambled brains.

Order the scrambled brains.

Order the scrambled brains.

Order the scrambled brains.



Men with the paper slippers wait for you.

Just for you.