Connecticut's for F*cking Songtext
von Jesus H Christ and the Four Hornsmen of the Apocalypse

We live in the dullest state
Package stores all close at eight
Malls are full of optometrists
And restaurants we hate

Swimming across Lake Quassapaug
Stealing makeup, catching frogs
Cutting our feet on broken bottles
As we wade in the Shepaug
It′s true for humans, cows and dogs

Connecticut's for fucking
That′s all there is to do
I love to listen to classic rock
And have sex with you

Doing hole shots at the mall
Writing "Ozzy" on a wall
Watch the corn get tall
There's nothing else to do at all


Goin' where we always go
Doin′ what we always do
Waitin′ to turn into the people we are bound to turn into
What else do other people do?

Connecticut's for fucking
It′s the Nutmeg State
If we can't afford to buy antiques
Then we just copulate

Connecticut′s for fucking
And Massachusetts too
I wanna climb up the Sleepy Giant
And have sex with you

Up in Fairfield, in Old Lyme
We're just fucking all the time
Down in Derby, out in Kent
We′re all busy getting bent
In the Constitution State

Oh yeah

Connecticut's for fucking
While we're waiting to
Turn into the people everyone here turns into


Connecticut′s for fucking
There′s nothing else to do
I wanna listen to classic rock
And have sex with you
Listen to classic rock and have sex with you

We all love to fuck in Connecticut
We all love to fuck in Connecticut
We're all getting fucked in Connecticut
Let′s fuck