(He's a) Grunge Whore Songtext
von Turbonegro

We walks the streets alone, his day′s complete
Another showdown between the sheets
When he remembers the first time score
The scene was nasty and his ring was sore

We saw his chance to make it big
Red rubber mask and a dreadlock wig
New Music Seminar, he made a scene
We drove them crazy, they made him scream

Tacoma Washington, a motel room
A sordid wedding, they switched as groom
They rode him hard, just felt fine
We got to sign the dotted line

Fame and fortune, we struck it big
Hard but melodic became his gig
Every interview was so profound
A worthy exponent of that grungy sound

Grungy


Well, he's a grunge whore
Knows what he likes
Black leather men on motorbikes
No self respect, he′s in it for the action
A million dollar satisfaction

He's a grunge whore
Grunge whore
Grunge whore
Grunge whore

But now the sad part, it's time to cry
Our indie hero is about to die
Turned blue in a locker room, we got too high
We shot his smack right in his fucking eye

He′s a grunge whore
Knows what he likes
Black leather men on motorbikes
No self respect, he′s in it for the action
A million dollar satisfaction

He's a grunge whore
He′s a grunge whore
Grunge whore
Grunge whore


Subtotal
283,107 dollars, 65 cents
You want a company check here?
Let's count it again
Come on, come on
Business is business
Come on, you′re talking 1,500 dollars
Okay, you keep the change
Okay? I don't give a shit

He′s a grunge whore
Knows what he likes
Black leather men on motorbikes
No self respect, he's in it for the action
A million dollar satisfaction

He's a grunge whore
Big wheels keep on turning
He′s a grunge whore
Napalm keeps on burning
Grunge whore
Paying for the CIA guns
He′s a grunge whore
With his distorted guitars and pounding drums

He's a grunge whore
Grunge whore
He′s a grunge whore
Grunge whore
He's a grunge whore
Grunge whore
He′s a grunge whore
Grunge whore