Queer - Face First

He sits in his room

Playing with his dolls

No one thought of flittiness at all

You won’t see him with The Youth Ahead

Or at those nudie bars

He wouldn’t fall in love with those girls

His mom thinks he’s gay

His mom thinks he’s gay

His mom thinks he’s gay

His mom thinks he’s a flamer

He receives the postcards with those beefy guys

You know when his mom sees them she cries

A passion for males was all it ever seemed

Now his life, it can’t be redeemed

His mom thinks he’s gay

His mom thinks he’s gay

His mom thinks he’s gay

His mom thinks he’s a flamer