Lyrics
Goth girls, goth girls: they’re the girls that go
to see the nerdcore rapper with the geeked out flow
at the show, you can see the black lace on parade
I met a hundred dozen of 'em…
Ummmm hello! I was wondering, how goth is my frock?
I got this thing for horror movies and mope rock
but I can’t shock my hair up (I ran out of stock)
and just like that, Frontalot ran out of talk.
It was tragic, unheard of, never seen, me:
out of rhymes when they usually come indefatigably
but me here talk good? No, bad talk do!
like my tongue got encrypted right before I lost root
like my small talk got box-roxed on a prior boot
it’s moot, she only dates guys in chokes and Docs,
not brutes lacking eyeliner like I lack
but look, I’ll put a little on plus lip shellac
just to stand next to that and dream about love
of necessity, that has always had to be enough
'cause I can’t talk to goth girls, I just stare and stammer
my name is MC frimmer frammer.
Damn her if she giggle damn her double if she laugh
goth girls like it when you double-damn it twice fast.
Goth girls, goth girls: they’re the girls that go
to see the nerdcore rapper with the geeked out flow
at the show, you can see the black lace on parade
I met a hundred dozen of 'em but I ain’t got laid.
Got shunned by her at the Rocky Horror premiere.
She steered clear of the nerd crowd but I heard loud in my ear
the disdain that she held for my type
always geeking on the computron — I get hype
on the stage, she might notice me then and observe
that I’m «ironically hip in some flip universe»
and her purse in patent leather held in fishnet glove
could then contain MP3 player with the Front filled up.
Her name is Nyteshaed, yo don’t call her cherry tomato.
She look like paisley tinkle but poisonous like topato.
She says her hair got attacked cause it’s black and it’s blue.
She got the Johnny the Homicidal Maniac tattoo.
Legs all deep in the boots, boots all up on the heels
yes, the kind to make a certain type of fetishist squeal.
The ordeal I endure: this close to her splendor
besieged by my shyness; try this: I surrender!
and render my intentions in the usual way
(home alone, SuicideGirls up on the cathode ray.)
Goth girls, goth girls: they’re the girls that go
to see the nerdcore rapper with the geeked out flow
at the show, you can see the black lace on parade
I met a hundred dozen of 'em but I ain’t got laid.
IRL, my woman tells me that I shouldn’t be covetin'
I tell her «yo, you better get in a coven then.»
It’s like eek, I get to sleep on the couch for a week
all watching old Elvira videos on TV.
Yeah hee hee hee, laugh it up. You don’t live like I do:
at the mercy of any sister with wrist scars and black eye goo.
I’ve tried to get into cheerleaders and failed
Banana Repugnant and tanned, so bland and so stale.
Avail myself of the local café, light a clove up
thumb through Camus (in French, which I can’t read, but so what?)
I think that goth could flower in nerdcore’s embrace
I mean converted Edward Gorey’s lettering into a typeface
befriended vampires on LJ and MySpace
even put that spooky echo filter on the bass
but I can’t talk to goth girls, I just stare and stammer
my name is MC frimmer frammer.
Damn her if she giggle damn her double if she laugh
goth girls like it when you double-damn it twice fast.
Goth girls, goth girls: they’re the girls that go
to see the nerdcore rapper with the geeked out flow
at the show, you can see the black lace on parade
I met a hundred dozen of 'em but I ain’t got laid.
Goth girls, goth girls: they’re the girls that got
their souls stuck somewhere between the kettle and pot.
Frontalot been enamored of 'em since I was young
met a hundred dozen of 'em, never ever humped one.
