Worm Quartet — The Laundromat of Sin letra e tradução
A página contém a letra e a tradução em português da música "The Laundromat of Sin" de Worm Quartet.
Letra
The anti-fish from dildoland
Is marching down a mucus strand
That leads from Falco to Ayn Rand
With stops at Chad and Spain
While nine fat popes and two wet Jews
Guffaw and grunt and fill their loos
With milk squeezed from their underoos
And carbonated pain
A riboflavin travestry
Goes up and down the tapestry
That graces my new haggis tree
By cowlight and bi-nightly
And Christ the cumquat troubadour
Has stapled omelettes to the floor
And burned the bush from every whore
Whose curtains were unsightly
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A pox upon the vomit king
Who brandished forth his ding-a-ling
And then defiled everything
With Casios and roses
A pox upon the lying lips
That promised me fried paperclips
For now I’m eating beggin' strips
And shacking up with Moses
A pox upon this stupid song
Which sounds too dumb and lasts too long
As od’rous as a sumo’s thong
And worse with every stanza
A pox upon the nipple tree
That I’ve been growing rectally
Since long division and E. T
Had sex with Tony Danza
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Bony butter children sit and stare
At a shredded Hustler reduced to porn specks
But there’s nothing in my underwear
That can’t be found in a box of Corn Chex
And in the laundromat of sin
Your soul is dry, but your socks are burning
Did you wash your pants in rancid yogurt?
Cuz it sure smells like the Tide is turning now
A screeching wad of camel bile
Is hurtling glumly down the aisle
And genuflecting all the while
Like Nerfuls at a totem
And traipsing through the wiggling sod
A sentient screaming curtain rod
As subtle as a cattle prod
Delivered to the scrotum
The holy mane of Mr. T
Was eaten by calligraphy
Served with a side of sodomy
And doom and gloom and presage
So graft potatoes to your brain
And lubricate a whooping crane
Hello there, I’m John McCain
And I approve this message
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Tradução da letra
Os anti-peixes de dildoland
Está a marchar por um fio muco
Isso leva de Falco a Ayn Rand
Com paragens em Chade e Espanha
Enquanto nove papas gordos e dois judeus molhados
Guffaw e grunhir e encher os seus loos
Com leite espremido das suas cuecas
E dor carbonatada
Uma travessia riboflavina
Sobe e desce a tapeçaria
Que graças a minha nova árvore de haggis
Por cowlight e bi-nightly
E Cristo O trovador cumquat
Tem omeletas agrafadas no chão
E queimou o arbusto de todas as putas
Cujas cortinas eram feias
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Uma varíola no rei do vómito
Que brandiu o seu ding-A-ling
E depois contaminou tudo.
Com Casios e rosas
Uma varíola nos lábios mentirosos
Isso prometeu-me clipes fritos.
Por agora estou a comer tiras de mendigo
E juntando-se a Moisés
Uma varíola nesta canção estúpida
O que parece muito estúpido e dura muito tempo
Tão od'Rous como uma tanga de sumô
E pior com cada estrofe
Uma varíola no mamilo
Que tenho crescido rectamente
Desde longa divisão e E. T
Tive sexo com o Tony Danza.
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Crianças de manteiga ossuda sentam-se e olham
Num chulo reduzido a manchas pornográficas
Mas não há nada na minha roupa interior.
Isso não pode ser encontrado numa caixa de cereais.
E na Lavandaria do pecado
A tua alma está seca, mas as tuas meias estão a arder
Lavaste as calças com iogurte rançoso?
Porque cheira mesmo a maré a mudar
Um grunhido de bílis de camelo
Está voando glumly ao longo do corredor
E genuflectir o tempo todo
Como Nerfuls num totem
And traspassing through the wiggling sod
Uma cortina senciente e gritante
Tão subtil como um aguilhão de gado
Entregue no escroto
A Santa crina do Sr. T
Foi comido pela caligrafia.
Servido com um lado de sodomia
E a desgraça, a tristeza e a prece
Então enxertar batatas para o seu cérebro
E lubrificar um guindaste
Olá, sou John McCain.
E eu aprovo esta mensagem
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