Thigh-High Boots

I'm gonna need some thigh-high boots
To wade through your shit and roots
Black shoes soaked brown
A nauseated frown

Handwritten alibis
To reinforce suspicious lies
Does it come to you a surprise
That these boots are double-tied?

I'm gonna need some thigh-high boots
To sift through your shitty roots
I'm thinking 'bout a boat instead
Maybe this shit's just a moat around your head

You're such a fucking whore
Lust me, love him, want more
Graphic, so sick; from your mouth spills feces
Insecurities the only thesis

Man I'm gonna need some thigh-high boots
Sick of your shit and these disputes

I scorned you when you confessed
No, you see, you're worse, you're three-faced
Now I'm drowning in your fruitless taste
So much for boots—it's above my face