Mauro Pawlowski should be in the Awesome Hall of Fame
This song is almost a decade old, but unless you are a fan of avant garde Belgian music, you may not have heard of Evil Superstars. So I'll throw you a bone; the most delicious bone your ears have ever sound-tasted.

I'm so jealous of whoever this song was written for. You will be, too, when you read the lyrics below.

Tons of marshmellow I sell
Still there's one thing I can't tell
When you smile at me, ah well
It started to snow in hell
300 miles an hour I daydream 'bout this pirate wedding bell
I fart as hard as I can and you smile at me again

Your library of kicks, your indoor fireworks
Your collection of ancient swines
Tell me what we gonna eat, ah your dump or mine

Keys of treasures you forget
Super stupid things we say
As we meet I can't help
Moving like a drunken bat
Excuse me but your pudding it tastes like penguin sweat
Scientists are examinating what you actually did with your ex-boyfriend's head

Stars, gnome puke and soap
Your zits kaleidoscope
Your drag racing divine
Tell me what we gonna eat, ah your dump or mine

Such a charming hateress
Tell me how can I suffer best
Your picture disc of Gorefest
Your strange accent, you're so different from the rest

A busload of whores washed up upon my private shores
Your candy store crime
Tell me what we gonna eat, ah your dump or mine

***

Evil Superstars CD stolen from Uncle Sloppy.

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