1: You're stretching bodies
in all directions.
Crippling them no doubt.
Your're shriveling faces
like old apples.
Turning them inside out.
Smering on some palmoil
or animal grease
to stop me from ageing
a babyface wiz.
Or pouring down hair
like some obscen waterfall
to make me feel unhappy
with my own pathetic frizz.
Ref: Commercials.
(Leaning out of the telly.
Critisizing my belly.
Proposing I'm smelly.)
Commercials.
(Public relation.
Relation with you?
I don't think so!)
2: You're mental bacteria
creating hysteria.
The only criteria
to make me feel inria.
A kitchen, a kitchen!
A black, sleek haven.
An antiseptic place
where we can stand and look smart.
With all this new interior
I'll allways feel superior.
I'll drown in steel machinery.
I'll never have to cook!
You begging and nagging
me to sign up.
Want to swallow me upp
and drain your bitter cup.
Ref Comercials...
Stick: But I'm your opportunity
to fullfill your Life.
I'm just a helping hand,
your friend, your man, your wife.
I've no hidden motivs,
just need a bit of Money
to help you to become
everybody's honey.
3: Well I'm a loser, a loser
without a brilliant kitchen,
a lean and perfekt body,
a blank and perfekt face.
Yes, I'm a loser, a loser
without a topnotch car,
exiting underwear
and friends around my bar.
Yes, I'm a loser, a loser
according to you.
But I'm inclined to think that
you're a lier too.
Cause it's all about Money
and it's all a fake
and i don't care a bit
'bout the shrill noise you make.
Ref Comercials...
Ref Comercials...