Из альбома: The Sane Day

He was a filthy motherfucker,
By the name of Dwight.
He only bathed 'bout once a year,
He didn't smell allright.
His father was a drunken bastard,
Couldn't do things right.
His mother died while she was giving birth,
When she saw her Dwight.

He had the great ambition to be one who girls would adore.
And if he could have the chance to flourish in a wild romance...

... He could be a fraud or a fake just like those guys on TV

"Dwight thought about it for a while and then it occured to him, all he had to do to be popular in Gooberville, where he lived, was to come up with something he was really good at. The problem was that the only thing he'd ever been remotely interested by in his youth was ballrom dancing. But if I could find a way, he thought, to combine the ballrom dancing with the fiersome attitude of more present day youth activities..."

... I could be the king of a generation lost in a daze.
Salsa, cha-cha, pasodoble,
Blended in the hardcore pace.

He could dance it all '€" he would never fall
Women by his side '€" rhymin', going wild
He would take 'em all!

He took all the money he had saved,
Sold his comicbooks too
Bought a baby-blue custom-made gabardine-suite with '€

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