They keep brayin’; spew-bunk nothings bore me;
nothing they squall’s got me impressed.
They’re expressin’ fare that’s in need of redressin’.
This crowd’s something else—never give it a rest.

These boobs are paid for talkin’?!
That’s what they, ceaseless, do.
Every day these boobs are gonna squawk all over you.

They keep lyin’; alien to them’s truthin’,
and up they keep goosing levels of fear and threat—“Boo!”
Ain’t no shamin’ them for spurious claimin’.
What ain’t blight is trite, and most ain’t been right yet

These boobs are paid for talkin’?!
That’s what they, ceaseless, do.
Every day these boobs are gonna squawk. . .god, no: “The View”!

They keep splayin’ their lips for vocal preyin’.
This crew ain’t thinkin’ as senseless phrases churn—bunk!
They astound me, these gab goons bought for gassing, yuck!
Their constant crowing makes me want to squirm.

These boobs are paid for talkin’?!
Butt cracks stuck where there’s moue.
Every day these boobs are gonna squawk until they’re blue

Arrgh! The dreaded boobs
start squawkin’!!

[fade on overlapping shrieking/screaming]