Poor, Poor Sherman.

[chalice]

I was gonna take the time to sit down
And write you a little poem
But from of the dome would probably be a little more,
More suitable for this type of song--whoa
I got a million reasons off the top of my head that I could think of
Sixteen bars,
This ain't enough to put some ink ta
So fuck it,
I'ma start right here by just be brief-a
'Bout to rattle off some other reasons
I knew I shouldn't go and get another tattoo of you
On my arm, but what do I go and do?
I go and get another one, now I got two
Ooh ooh ooh ooh ooh ooh ooh
I'm sittin' here with your name on my skin
I can't believe I went and did this stupid shit again
My next girlfriend, now her name's gotta be Kim
Shi-ii-ii-ii-ii-ii-it
If you only knew how much I hated you
For every motherfuckin' thing you ever put us through
Then I wouldn't be standing here crying over you
Boo-oo-oo-oo-oo-oo-who

[The Flying Cow]

A poet, before the fall.

[chalice]

Don't judge one song off of an upcoming album on the rest of it.

If the album's shite, then fair enough, but you can't decree his 'fall' before you've heard the rest, cawk.

[The Flying Cow]

I mean he's already fallen as far as I'm concerned.

Encore was a joke compared to his first 4.

[chalice]

Bollocks.

Listen to 'My First Single' and tell me that that's not the most intricate, lyrically inventive, poetically diverse song he's ever created, like.

[Skweeky]

Stop listening to shite music, both of you. Fuck sake.

[Rat Faced]

Is Fuck throwing a strop?