Testo: Faderhead. FH3. Mr. Fetus.

Hello Mr. Fetus, one arm, one leg, one eye

One parent wants you, one parent in denial

Just one careless saturday night

In a rusty car behind the multiplex

Mr. Penis now works 9 to 5

On minimum wage

Just so your blue babybook can add

Another stained, stained, curled page



Mr. Fetus, how do you feel?

You walking, talking, drooling welfare check

Let mother fill your ears with the words "Heaven Sent"

While playing hangman with the word "A-C-C-I-D-E-N-T"



So who loves you more?

With ping pong playmates for parents

Provoking dents in your side

That cannot be hammered out

Months spent flying over the net

Praying that one day someone misses

Because the game is boring

Because the game is "fuck you"