letra de wuss - king missile
1, 2, 1, 2, 3, 4
i was a teenage wuss.
in junior high school, i had oily, stringy hair and lots of pimples.
i wore really wussy clothes.
most of the other kids called me a f-ggot.
even some of the other wusses called me a f-ggot.
there was maybe five kids in the whole school who were wussier than i was.
i was really wussed out.
i was afraid of girls, and guys scared the sh-t out of me.
they used to say to me, “what are you, f-cking queer?”
they wanted me to fight, to prove i wasn’t a f-ggot.
but i didn’t fight, i ran away.
{cussing in the background}
i was a wuss.
i was never into any sports at all.
i never took showers after gym cl-ss.
i wore my gym clothes under my regular clothes,
so i wouldn’t have to change in front of everybody else.
i was afraid to realize my full potential in school because,
to the other kids,
the smarter you were,
the wussier you were
i was a hopeless wuss.
wuss, wuss, wuss.
i was into science fiction and math and chess.
it was not fun being a wuss, and even now,
now that i’m not nearly as much of a wuss as i once was,
i still feel kind of wussy from time to time:
residual wussiness-
the kind of thing you can never really leave behind.
that’s the way it goes.
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