The Ear Torture Continues
Remember when I said 7 seconds ago that I care about the well-being of your ears? I said a lie. Because if I had any respect or love for your sense of hearing, I wouldn't expose it to this eardrum-burning, dead baby hooker shit from Manufactured Superstars featuring stumbling bag of queefs Wonky McValtrex.
In that monotone, soulless, slut toddler voice of hers, Parasite educates us about the new phenomenon (for 1999) called drunk texting. Just like her "career," sex tape and insides, this mess has a pulse rate of zero. This is like Meeting In The Ladies Room if Meeting In The Ladies Room got the life beat out of it with a flip phone and was left for dead in the alleyway behind a has-been club. To quote the poetic Klymaxx: "I had to leave my condo to come to this?!" If I tried to drunk text this song to anyone, my iPhone would auto-correct it to read: STOP!
I know you hate me, because after listening to that virus of a song, you now have deflated anal warts inside of your ear holes. Maybe this dose of musical antibiotics from a real star will stop the stinging a bit.
UPDATE: Wonky's black hole ate the EwTube above, but if you really hate yourself you can click here to listen to it.