KOMPROMAT

He types gmial.com and is misdirected to a typo-squat that promises instant success with Hayley, Bondi, Sweet Thing and/or Agrafena. One is named after a beach. That’s how much he knows. As for the rest, he’d love to Google the hell out of Hayley, who barely exposes a mention. She remembers reading on a Wikipedia page once that it means quick.

Has Wikiwikiweb developer Ward Cunningham even been to Hawaii? Howie would only Google the hell out of Hayley, if Mrs C. was out of town, or out of the room. The Happy Days connection goes underdeveloped. Bondi says everyone confuses her with the beach, even though it’s pronounced totally differently on the Polynesian archipelago. It might be a long way to Tipperary, but it’s about a 20-hour flight from Brisbane to Fua’amotu International Airport, Nuku’alofa. After the rugby and the snorkelling and the fish, the conversation dries up, so Bondi says she’d like to meet Howie too, if he’d bring a friend along.

The case not to dredge up The Fonz goes unpleaded, largely because Hayley has no idea who he is. It is pointed out she has both a PhD in comparative literature and a very nice figure, and if the President wasn’t her father, Fonzarelli would be nailing her. Mrs C. blushes at the mention of nails. She has memories of a hammer Arthur showed her back in series two. Marion, the only person allowed to call the Fonz by his first name, never abuses the privilege. Bondi beach is a dump, says Hayley purely to get attention. As clean and fresh as a spanking new Tony Blair at Fettes College, Bondi Ocean Outfall is a heritage-listed sewer in Waverley, New South Wales.

Sweet Thing has turned sour and gone off with a surfer from Cornwall who suffers gastrointestinal problems acutely on account of his great passion for Hayley. It is his misspelling that has kicked off events that have caused one of the mechanical Turks to blow. He has been writing essays to order for Easy Essay Lab.com to pay his way in London. Mehmet’s English is intermediate enough for him to produce genuine-looking borderline passes for the sons and daughters of the same corrupt government officials that made him flee to another dissident’s safe house in Roehampton. President Erdogan’s deployment of irony is more effective than noxious chemicals. Mehmet gets nervous nonetheless whenever the words novichok and sentence are placed in the same news bulletin. Agrafena Minovski, 26, whose chest, hip and waist measurements are an open secret, is up to speed with BBC lies. Through power of inverted commas, she is afforded faculty of direct speech, “Look. It’s BS. You think I am Putin’s girl?”

Mehmet is unsure if the term media whore is non-sexist. A minor error of etiquette leads to a breakdown that leaves the three mail chimps out in the cold. One of them has his hands over his eyes; the other in his pockets, on his lip an Embassy Regal cigarette that is no longer made in Nottingham; the third holds up a sign that reads better in the original Russian.

User #25384: Gmail profile has been compromised. In order to reactivate narrative, text back:
KOMPROMAT.AGRAFENA. STOP.

MONOTOPOLY

You're having to push the bloody car again

When you hear her voice. She's Lithuanian.

I like to use her for cleaning the house with.

Now you comes to think of it,

you're not so sure it was a grammar mistake.

We're most of us cheaper than automata.

The economics are predictable.

You cannot quite believe UR here again.

DO NOT PASS GO. DO NOT COLLECT $200.

Another double six! This is better than sex.

You can't work out whether it's Monday yet.

Friday was off board. Wild. Disorientating.

It felt good.

Now the journey around the centre must continue.

Keep calm.

Traipse around the West End one-way system.

Take care to avoid red hotels and green b'n'bs.

A lackey in a uniform points at you, like Lord Kitchener would

If he worked on Park Lane, and you, a skanky Northerner,

Had got lost looking for St. Pancras.

The die says you don't have to linger.

You push your disproportionate chunk of uncomfortable metal

Around the corner to the cheaper quarter.

Wherever you land up now won't break the bank.

DO NOT PASS GO. DO NOT COLLECT $200.

The dice roll. The wheels slide. The dog is dragged.

The T-Rex is forced along too.

The Best Retro House Party in the Universe, Leicester Square.

Where, with none of the heroic endeavour of Sisyphus,

Nothing will befall you.

Here containment is the aim. The name of the game can change.

The illusion of chance must persist. All is flat and papery;

All that is required the regularity of circularity.

Nothing to break the eye line

Save the twin silos of randomness and municipality.

The message reads: Kirsty Allblob has been twatted off quitter.

She's very Surrey.

There's a boot coming up alongside you now.

Strictly no legroom. Strictly against the run of play.

Angel, Islington. The local property prices are strangely stagnant.

DO NOT PASS GO. DO NOT COLLECT $200.

You don’t think you can afford the hotel bill. Oh for a Travelodge!

You remember an off-hand moment down the Essex Road and
shudder.

Who are you anyway? And shouldn't you have taken the dog?

You push this over-sized bonsai around like it matters.

Another double six! Humiliating. Isn't that the point?

You spend years avoiding each other until one night

You co-incidentally pitch up together in an enclosed space

Under the guise of a good time

And with the stated purpose of transcendence

In a shithole next to yet more student accommodation.

If the transcendence you crave is a pretty face,

It's no wonder you're crazy. Double four. You turn the corner.

And get out of there fast.

Deal. Trade. Own more.

DO NOT PASS GO. DO NOT COLLECT $200.

You push past a public utility. It remains oddly unprivatised.

You wonder whether it will be re-nationalised anyway.

Your guts churn like a cliché. Must be Sunday evening.

Poetry: life with all the painful bits put back in.

A broken down narrative. A small to medium opportunity

To encapsulate your melodrama for those playing banker.

Protective clothing may be worn, but it doesn't help.

Around the perimeter there are four inch nails.

A fenced off area under which the homeless might sleep

Is a bold sign of the times: PRIVATE PROPERTY.

You push your personal crisis into a corner.

You sit behind bars while what passes for life passes you by.

A top hat sails past the finish line and takes the bank.

The thimble protects your thumb.

The rest of your body is sold and burnt.

The landlord wins, as always.

The law of rent triumphs as inevitably as fate,

Which they invented to fuck you over.

Once in a lifetime you may ask yourself why,

But once every five minutes

Smack yourself in the head with the iron

Just to make sure you're still alive.

DO NOT PASS GO. DO NOT COLLECT $200.

BRiTANNiA DEVOURS HER YOUNG

Britannia devours her young, but botches the butchery

and tosses the half-dead baby out of the window of her Range Rover,

as she might a sandwich box on the hard shoulder.

Government helps. It has contracted the motorway to more manageable proportions.

The hard shoulder is merely the slow lane.

Along the right side of the fast lane runs a fissure the size of the Aconcagua.

Then, out of steam, the metaphor halts in its tracks.

From the sierra, Peru not Ford, and from the jungle, the rainforest

Not drum and bass, the ancestors of the Incas emerge.

Hard core, no longer ravaged by measles, diphtheria and smallpox,

Breaking the beat of expropriation, their reciprocity,

As quaint as a finely-woven textile in Primark.

Thousands of miles from trend-setting fashion-consciousness,

But not that far from fiscal paradise where taxes, like governments, lie

- The market situates everything at the margins.

She remembers being concussed twice before,

but on both occasions the narrative fell flat.

What constitutes happiness is multi-factorial,

says the plastic surgeon, using a straight face

From a jarful that he keeps by the door.

He knows exactly what’s going on in her head;

The equation that is not a matter of mathematics, but physics.

Bigger boobs = richer boyfriend.

Gold-digging is economically transformative; yet Britannia's breast augmentation

Is a great burden to bear - not too the mention the Kent booty job, at whose mention

The straight-talking plastic doctor has taken the cue to melt away

Into the obscure bijou drains of electronica. Thrombotic beats, an Amen break or three,

Beta-blockers and aspirins have spilt over the pockets of his white coat.

This has nothing at all to do with the fat man from east Leicester

Who thinks Big Pharma is a WWF wrestler.

The plastic doctor's virtual fanny pack stuffed full of gilt-edged, guilt-free bonds

And bit coins. Profits kill, serially and massively.

She has a simple strategy. Compare across, compare down, but never compare up.

Seek out the pained. Listen to their woes and wallow in the relief

That it’s not your narrative.

Ask any unpaid psychologist, commercialization is as predictable as the news,

And only skews the outcome.

Gunshot is an everyday event in London, Washington and Babylon, near Hillah, Iraq.

The world isn’t a holiday brochure, it’s real.

The gold mine in County Tyrone waits for a minister to sign it off.

Progress is an illusion we feed to the algorithms of control.

Near-term gratification, temporary elevation, the sugar of retail, addicted to the thrill

Of conspicuous and compulsive consumption, you will eat yourself one day and not notice

- Even after you see it on You Tube.


Widow, Mavis, 70, hallucinates from loneliness.

She mostly misses her husband for the sex.

She finds respite in the bright lights of Soho. She wanders up and down Compton Street,

In tow her unstable but racially pure, invisible boyfriend.

She is a lonely fascist, only three meals away from anarchy.

There are food banks and soup kitchens in Munich again: all those sexy uniforms.

Three times a day, as regular as the trains,

All that she wants is a diet of frequent and intense orgasms

Delivered on time by a handsome shock trooper with a long, moist dorsum muscle.

Mavis is no more real than your Facebook page.

You are products: one of invention, the other of notional content.

Monetizing the imagination is a messy business.

The satisfying linear narrative of success that you crave and demand

Cannot be guaranteed.

You share a plot line with psychopaths.

Kleptocrats, crooks and criminals from the Kremlin watch on,

As the washed-up lie wacked out along the West Wing.

The end is high. It stinks to Nye Bevan.

The Right Hon. member for Ebbw Vale lifts the leg of his trousers

To give us a tantalising glimpse of social justice.

Mavis fails to climax.

The Chief Finance Officer drafts the mass email

That dismisses the bottom 10% of humanity with immediate effect.

She cannot be sure. But she thinks she feels a tingle already.

When it goes out for real, she is bound to come.



CHORIZA MAY

PROTECTED SPECIES

The tiger has been placed in the room
For your own protection.

The savage cat is there for a specific purpose.

The function of the powerful feline
Is to startle, only occasionally mind,
And only for your own good. 

The door behind you is open.
You are free to vacate the premises and flee.

Before the tiger tears out your throat, there are options.

The claw that rips off your face if you falter
Is a reminder of the alternatives.

Remove yourself from the picture
Or bleed to death. For your own preservation
The tiger lurks.


Go. Now.

THE METROPHOBIC POET

There was a young poet
from Limerick
who couldn't quite get
the hang of it.

First his lines didn't scan
- at all.

Then, his clever half-rhyme scheme
went completely to pot;
a bit ironic really
seeing as how he was from Limerick
and all...

ILLIMERICK

There was a young gent from Gent

And that's about as far as he went...

He really liked Belgium.

THE OPPOSITE OF LOVE

Deprived of tenderness
The body fossilizes

If touched
The brittle lava cracks

Neither compassion nor hate here:

Only indifference
That no longer aches

That a single breach would wreck

SCAN AND GO TO HELL

Nightmare in Manchester; catastrophe in Leeds

Dockless disease disaster that no-one really needs

Bike share schemes have gone down well

- right to the bottom of the ship canal.

Why don't you scan and go to hell?

Oh no! It's an OFO...


The Bike Share King's a billionaire

In Beijing they're everywhere

The gig economy's where it's at

As you pedal like a twat

This is how it feels to get nowhere fast

On a chunk of black and yellow crap

Controlled by a communist capitalist app

Why not scan and go to hell?

Oh fuck, it's an OFO!


The boyz in da hood are lean

Pimp up dem bumblebee mean

Re-cycle for free! Take a skanky chav ride

On the wrong side of the roadman

A big yellow taxi for a junky in a hurry

Give your mates a backie as you carry home a curry

Don't worry, you won't have to pay

Scan and go to hell, it's an only OFO


Fly off the kerb like you don't care

Take a liberty with security

Crack off the lock, knock off the block

Fuck it, it's only an OFO


It's cheaper than a moped, it must be said

A Vespa would be faster; a Lambretta much better

But all you've got is an OFO... and it's pants!

You'll never win Le Tour de France,

Kiss ciao ciao to the Giro a Italia,

Wave adios to La Vuelta a Espanya,

Eee by gum you'll win nowt in t'Tour de Yorkshire on that lad!

Piled sky high in Shanghai

Buried underground in Chengdu

Nobody knows just what to do?

In graveyards, millions of bikes lie

Unlocked and unrented; unwanted and unloved

On the cycle lane to hell,

A slow escalator of death harvests your data,

Sold on later to a one-party dictator

A corrupt fat cat who couldn't give a toss

His gain is our loss... Scan and go to hell!

The visually impaired are scared;


The pavement's a no-go zone

It's an anti-social movement, immobilised by phone

Time you effed off OFO? And left us alone!


You'll not get a puncture,

But you might get a hernia

Cos like Jeremy Clarkson,

It's shit in Top Gear!


Smack the bike up when you're done

Toss it aside when you've had your fun

Scan and go to hell and back on an OFO!

GRATITUDE

Above all, I have been
 a sentient being,
 a thinking animal,
 on this beautiful planet,
and that in itself has been
 an enormous privilege
 and adventure.
 
― Oliver Sacks, Gratitude

A short one-eyed naked alien steps from the shower, grateful for the tiny flannel with which to cover his dignity. Kadong#^ians cannot reach local towel rails.

The swatch of cloth, its ability to trap heat and wick away moisture unmatched, makes flannel fabric the go-to-material-of-choice for the alien armies massed around the orbit of the spaceport.

Interplanetary Space Station 5456 is a fashionable destination for short life forms, despite the height differential with the residents, who have readily been subjugated to the will of the titchy invaders. Masquerading as fictional, the Kadong#^ians can pretty much get the long pigs to do their bidding.

Orbital pods beam down highly improbable ZAP rays that regulate the inhabitants’ humours: instilling anything from exhilaration and euphoria through to docile jollity. The mood-altering beams work best on those who believe in the context. Those individuals capable of transcendence or overview are less prone to compliance.

D$gn^roi% has discovered getting the soap out of the white plastic tower is the easy bit. A sticky substance coats his 17-digit hands, leaving all three of them in a single messy coagulation. Kadong#^ian space-porters reach unimaginable speeds, but right now D$gn^roi% cannot even reach the tap. Getting back inside his Ewok is going to be a struggle.

Finally, emerging from the intersex bathroom, D$gn^roi% is just in time to catch a glimpse of pink fleece trailing from around both of G*ddrof7ng's delicate waists, as it trails into the women's lavatory next door.

The toilet attendant, posing as a humiliated bog troll from Sierra Leone, is actually a graduate from the College of Space Medicine and Alien Health Sciences. What an unlikely coincidence! Neither D$gn^roi% nor G*ddrof7ng have ever been so thankful in the entirety of their short lives.

As the attendant slowly unfolds around a score of paper towels, onto which she pours a gluppy, pale yellow emulsion, she smiles. Salad cream!

Fortunately, for G*ddrof7ng and D$gn^roi%, as well as for the financially desperate Dr Aminata Amokpogba, the ersatz mayonnaise, created in Harlesden in 1914, is just the job for de-greasing alien palms.

She has heard that the Kadong#^ians are great tippers.

KURTZ’S LAST SUPPER

Evangelists believe in conditional immortality.
Cross-dressed clansmen think Christians taste best dead.

Human flesh fires the belly before battle.

Skies glow violet then pitch. Pyres of tyres smoke, plains burn,
But nothing flickers in the dense clouds.
Night descends. Existence in the dark is extreme.

A trip to the uttermost ends is a journey to the centre of the void.
Blackout is total; the security of the inner sanctum violated;
Buffers breached, the train has long left the Congo…

For the rest, there is no going back.
Cut and paste from instants of great moment.
Momentum gathers. Next stop: Monrovia.

Travel disquiets and discovers.
The Company has gone away and not gone away:
Abused become abusers; sons of genocide go genocidal.

The lizard-brained ruin the roost. There are no leaders,
Only bosses armed to the teeth with mosquito spray.
The sub-lethal toxicity of insecticides
Offers a welcome distraction to decay.

Skies burn black with the barbecue of human carnage.
Carnival time. Lost to gravity and morality,
World-weary child warriors, spaced out on reality,
Wait impatiently...

For each bloodied chunk
Ripped from the heart of darkness
By hollowed men.

The horror! The horror!

The United Nations office shuts early on a Thursday.

 

TOO MANY MONKEYS, TOO MANY KEYBOARDS

I'm busy throwing hints that he keeps missingDon't have to think about itI Wanna kiss andEverything around it but he's too distant I wanna feel his body I can't resist it I know my hidden looks can be deceiving But how obvious should a girl be? I was taken by the early conversation piece And I really like the way that he respect me I've been waiting patiently for him to come and get it I wonder if he knows that he can say it and I'm with it I knew I had my mind made up from the very beginning

Catch this opportunity so you and me could feel it 'cos If you're ready for me boy You'd better push the button and let me know Before I get the wrong idea and go You're gonna miss the freak that I control I'm busy showing him what he's been missing

I'm kind of showing off for his full attention My sexy ass has got him in the new dimension I'm ready to do something to relieve this mission After waiting patiently for him to come and get it He came on through and asked me if I wanted to get with him I knew I had my mind made up from the very beginning Won't miss this opportunity so you and me could feel it 'cos If you're ready for me boy You'd better push the button and let me know Before I get the wrong idea and go You're gonna miss the freak that I control If you're ready for me boy You'd better push the button and let me know

Before I get the wrong idea and go You're gonna miss the freak that I control I've been dropping so many hints You’re still not getting it Now that you’ve heard everything I have to say Where we gonna go from here? After waiting patiently for him to come and get it He came over and asked me if I wanted to get with him I knew I had my mind made up from the very beginning Won't miss this opportunity so you and me could feel it 'cos If you're ready for me boy You'd better push the button and let me know Before I get the wrong idea and go You're gonna miss the freak that I control

If you're ready for me boy You'd better push the button and let me know Before I get the wrong idea and go You're gonna miss the freak that I control (I control?) If you're ready for me boy (For me boy) You'd better push the button and let me know Before I get the wrong idea and go (Oh, oh) You're gonna miss the freak that I controlOhhhhhhhh Ohhhhh Ohhhhhh

I'm busy throwing hints that he keeps missingDon't have to think about itI Wanna kiss andEverything around it but he's too distant I wanna feel his body I can't resist it I know my hidden looks can be deceiving But how obvious should a girl be? I was taken by the early conversation piece And I really like the way that he respect me I've been waiting patiently for him to come and get it I wonder if he knows that he can say it and I'm with it I knew I had my mind made up from the very beginning

Catch this opportunity so you and me could feel it 'cos If you're ready for me boy You'd better push the button and let me know Before I get the wrong idea and go You're gonna miss the freak that I control I'm busy showing him what he's been missing

I'm kind of showing off for his full attention My sexy ass has got him in the new dimension I'm ready to do something to relieve this mission After waiting patiently for him to come and get it He came on through and asked me if I wanted to get with him I knew I had my mind made up from the very beginning Won't miss this opportunity so you and me could feel it 'cos If you're ready for me boy You'd better push the button and let me know Before I get the wrong idea and go You're gonna miss the freak that I must loosen control If you're ready for me boy You'd better push the button and let me know

Before I get the wrong idea and go You're gonna miss the freak that I control I've been dropping so many hints You’re still not getting it Now that you’ve heard everything I have to say Where we gonna go from here? After waiting patiently for him to come and get it He came over and asked me if I wanted to get with him I knew I had my mind made up from the very beginning Won't miss this opportunity so you and me could feel it 'cos If you're ready for me boy You'd better push the button and let me know Before I get the wrong idea and go You're gonna miss the freak that I control

If you're ready for me boy You'd better push the button and let me know Before I get the wrong idea and go You're gonna miss the freak that I control (I control) If you're ready for me boy (For me boy) You'd better push the button and let me know Before I get the wrong idea and go (Oh, oh) You're gonna miss the freak that I controlOhhhhhhhh Ohhhhh Ohhhhhh

I'm busy throwing hints that he keeps missingDon't have to think about itI Wanna kiss andEverything around it but he's too distant I wanna feel his body I can't resist it I know my hidden looks can be deceiving But how obvious should a girl be? I was taken by the early conversation piece And I really like the way that he respect me I've been waiting patiently for him to come and get it I wonder if he knows that he can say it and I'm with it I knew I had my mind made up from the very beginning

Catch this opportunity so you and me could feel it 'cos If you're ready for me boy You'd better push the button and let me know Before I get the wrong idea and go You're gonna miss the freak that I control I'm busy showing him what he's been missing

I'm kind of showing off for his full attention My sexy ass has got him in the new dimension I'm ready to do something to relieve this mission After waiting patiently for him to come and get it He came on through and asked me if I wanted to get with him I knew I had my mind made up from the very beginning Won't miss this opportunity so you and me could feel it 'cos If you're ready for me boy You'd better push the button and let me know Before I get the wrong idea and go You're gonna miss the freak that I control If you're ready for me boy You'd better push the button and let me know

Before I get the wrong idea and go You're gonna miss the freak that I loosen control I've been dropping so many hints You’re still not getting it Now that you’ve heard everything I have to say Where we gonna go from here? After waiting patiently for him to come and get it He came over and asked me if I wanted to get with him I knew I had my mind made up from the very beginning Won't miss this opportunity so you and me could feel it 'cos If you're ready for me boy You'd better push the button and let me know Before I get the wrong idea and go You're gonna miss the freak that I control

If you're ready for me boy You'd better push the button and let me know Before I get the wrong idea and go You're gonna miss the freak that I control (I control) If you're ready for me boy (For me boy) You'd better push the button and let me know Before I get the wrong idea and go (Oh, oh) You're gonna miss the freak that I controlOhhhhhhhh Ohhhhh Ohhhhhh 

I'm busy throwing hints that he keeps missingDon't have to think about itI Wanna kiss andEverything around it but he's too distant I wanna feel his body I can't resist it I know my hidden looks can be deceiving But how obvious should a girl be? I was taken by the early conversation piece And I really like the way that he respect me I've been waiting patiently for him to come and get it I wonder if he knows that he can say it and I'm with it I knew I had my mind made up from the very beginning

Catch this opportunity so you and me could feel it 'cos If you're ready for me boy You'd better push the button and let me know Before I get the wrong idea and go You're gonna miss the freak that I control I'm busy showing him what he's been missing

I'm kind of showing off for his full attention My sexy ass has got him in the new dimension I'm ready to do something to relieve this mission After waiting patiently for him to come and get it He came on through and asked me if I wanted to get with him I knew I had my mind made up from the very beginning Won't miss this opportunity so you and me could feel it 'cos If you're ready for me boy You'd better push the button and let me know Before I get the wrong idea and go You're gonna miss the freak that I control If you're ready for me boy You'd better push the button and let me know

Before I get the wrong idea and go You're gonna miss the freak that I control I've been dropping so many hints You’re still not getting it Now that you’ve heard everything I have to say Where we gonna go from here? After waiting patiently for him to come and get it He came over and asked me if I wanted to get with him I knew I had my mind made up from the very beginning Won't miss this opportunity so you and me could feel it 'cos If you're ready for me boy You'd better push the button and let me know Before I get the wrong idea and go You're gonna miss the freak that I control

If you're ready for me boy You'd better push the button and let me know Before I get the wrong idea and go You're gonna miss the freak that I control (I control) If you're ready for me boy (For me boy) You'd better push the button and let me know Before I get the wrong idea and go (Oh, oh) You're gonna miss the freak that I controlOhhhhhhhh Ohhhhh Ohhhhhh 

I'm busy throwing hints that he keeps missingDon't have to think about itI Wanna kiss andEverything around it but he's too distant I wanna feel his body I can't resist it I know my hidden looks can be deceiving But how obvious should a girl be? I was taken by the early conversation piece And I really like the way that he respect me I've been waiting patiently for him to come and get it I wonder if he knows that he can say it and I'm with it I knew I had my mind made up from the very beginning

Catch this opportunity so you and me could feel it 'cos If you're ready for me boy You'd better push the button and let me know Before I get the wrong idea and go You're gonna miss the freak that I secretly lose control I'm busy showing him what he's been missing

I'm kind of showing off for his full attention My sexy ass has got him in the new dimension I'm ready to do something to relieve this mission After waiting patiently for him to come and get it He came on through and asked me if I wanted to get with him I knew I had my mind made up from the very beginning Won't miss this opportunity so you and me could feel it 'cos If you're ready for me boy You'd better push the button and let me know Before I get the wrong idea and go You're gonna miss the freak that I control If you're ready for me boy You'd better push the button and let me know

Before I get the wrong idea and go You're gonna miss the freak that I control I've been dropping so many hints You’re still not getting it Now that you’ve heard everything I have to say Where we gonna go from here? After waiting patiently for him to come and get it He came over and asked me if I wanted to get with him I knew I had my mind made up from the very beginning Won't miss this opportunity so you and me could feel it 'cos If you're ready for me boy You'd better push the button and let me know Before I get the wrong idea and go You're gonna miss the freak that I control

If you're ready for me boy You'd better push the button and let me know Before I get the wrong idea and go You're gonna miss the freak that I control (I lost control) If you're ready for me boy (For me boy) You'd better push the button and let me know Before I get the wrong idea and go (Oh, oh) You're gonna miss the freak that I controlOhhhhhhhh Ohhhhh Ohhhhhh