Hey, can we get some fucking water up here? Now, *clears throat* Now, what I was trying to say before I was so rudely interrupted is does anybody have a fucking watch on and can tell me what time it is? 12:10. So technically it is Sunday, so we should all pray. Everybody get on your knees. They say the more people you have praying, the more God will hear you. C'mon, it's not that dirty. Get on your knees. C'mon, it's OK. Get on your fucking knees. Even you, bartender, come on! All right, that's enough. You ready? Everybody repeat after me. Put you hands together. Don't repeat that, just put your hands together. OK, you ready? Dear God. Fuck Osama Bin Laden, and fuck George W. Bush, too. Fuck Afghanistan, fuck the Taliban, and fuck the White House, too! And especially, fuck all the wrinkled, rotten bellied, senior citizens, who have been boring us to death on CN-fucking-N! Arise. Amen. Hey, can we get some fucking water up here before we pass out? Feel free to spit on us, too. C'mon, more! Show me all your fucking hatred, c'mon. Weak, weak weak. *music starts* This song is dedicated to my elementary school girlfriend and the first time she said those three magic words: Don't hurt me. 

Lolita, where are you? Open this 
fucking door right now. I'm out 
here, you're in there, and I'm 
coming down upon you. Her bloody 
vagina stained my sheets, prance 
and dance in parade of a criminal, 
hang them outside for the neighbors 
to see. Accursed taboos trespass 
festivity. 

Low, low, low, low. LOW! LOW! 
LOW! LOW! 

What was my name? We evolved 
from reptiles. 

Worship her perfection, intimate 
selection, copulate and save her, 
fornicate and maim her. The child 
is resembling all I want of trembling, 
carnally defending, seducing and 
offending nature. 

Lolita, relax now, close your eyes 
and open up. I'm in you, beside 
you, but never meant to hurt you. 
Her famous rejection stained my 
soul, bury a hole to protect a 
pedophile. In the backyard no one 
ever suspects, a dozen little bodies 
hidden everywhere. 

Low, low, low, low. LOW! LOW! 
LOW! LOW! 

What was my name? We evolved 
from reptiles. 

Worship her perfection, intimate 
selection, copulate and save her, 
fornicate and maim her. The child 
is resembling all I want of trembling, 
carnally defending, seducing and 
offending nature. 

Let's fuck some kids. They can't 
say no. Molest them now before they 
grow up. Threaten them with oral 
sex. Expose yourself to incest. 

It's alright to expose yourself 
to kids. Do it now before they 
grow up and it's too late. Find 
an elementary school at recess 
time. Pull your pecker out in 
front of them and masturbate! 

I wanna do it. It's time to fucking clap, kids, like this. OK, good beat. Good! Keep going, keep going, keep it up. I need a drink. How the fuck do you expect them to be on beat if you're not on beat!? You guys hot and thirsty? Pass that around. OK, you ready? Here we go. 

Suck on a little healer's crack. 
Hold 'em down, they can't fight 
back. Hold 'em down, they can't 
fight back. Child abuse is on 
my mind. Your little kids I'm 
sure to find. 

It's alright to expose yourself 
to kids. Do it now before they 
grow up and it's too late. Before 
they grow up and they'll be too old. 
Find an elementary school at recess 
time. Pull your pecker out in 
front of them and masturbate. 

Ooohhhhhh. Wait, the song ended. Oh, shit. 

You know where we're at now? The part of the set that your mommies and daddies probably hate. See, usually what I do is I ask people to give me...You're not wearing a shirt. Your tits are exposed. Hold on. Somebody's asking you a question. What'd he say? Did he want you to put your tits away? Why? Is he your brother or dad or something? Tits are good! Well, anyway, usually what I ask people to do around this time in the set-hey, if you keep talking, I can't. *music plays* Shut up! Stop that! I'm talking! That was very rude of you. Listen! I ask people to give us their pants! To let go. To stop trying to control fate. To give up and give us their fucking pants, because it doesn't matter if you go home at all, much less if you go home in pants. But, everytime we do this, we only get a few pairs of pants, up to 30. So what I'm going to ask you to do is to take your pants off and hold them in your right hand. Everybody with fucking balls that doesn't give a fuck take your fucking pants off. There's one. Oh, there's a-isn't your dad here, little girl? Why are your tits exposed if your dad is here? You have a really cool dad. Remove your pants and hold them in your right hand please. Everybody just do this...