lo-fi shota; if i show him then he buys
i like the money but i need the narcissistic supply

grey face on the internet in a glass case 
a bad taste that the cinnamon cant erase
but im based while i baste in my [bad word] and place
a bet how long can i avoid the sun’s rays, then raise

i make a killing selling fantasy to closeted [bad word] 
who never got to get [bad word] in their glory days
and now they’re married with sons who they love and hate
themselves about as much as i do when we go on dates

they tell me that i am the only one they want to rape
but that they’d never really would, it’s just bedroom play
i send them pictures and they buy me lots of videogames
and by the time i get them theyre suicidally ashamed

and then i wonder if i’m sick or if i’m partly to blame
cos if i’m honest when his [bad word] is in me i like the pain
i even like it when he calls me by his son’s first name
and cuddles with me after making sure that we both came

lo-fi shota; if i blow him then he cries
i like the money but i need the narcissistic supply

he laps up my [bad word] just
like it’s a perfect [bad word] 

all he wanted was a little from a little boy
the same way that his uncle used to give him joy
while his daddy was inside him, and he wasnt coy
that’s what he told me after i was under his employ

he said that he was always horny and he couldnt avoid
crawling onto his father’s lap and then getting destroyed
and that he’d give me anything if i would be his toy
and if i would that it’d maybe help him fill the void

inside his heart that he felt in his pants, and freud
wouldve been better for this job cos i was just annoyed
and devoid of interest in how he would justify it
i’ve heard it all a million times and nothing rectifies it

but tell me you got an erection when you heard me sigh and
give me all of your attention and look into my eyes
i’ll give you ual affection that’ll be nothing like
your wife or kid could ever do because you are my supply