The girls won’t touch me ’cause I got a misdirection,
and livin’ at night isn’t helpin my complexion.
The signs all say it’s a social infection.
A little bit of fun’s never been an insurrection.

Mom threw me out ’til I get some pants that fit.
She just don’t approve of my strange kind of wit.
I get so excited I always gotta lose it,
then they pack me off and make me take the cure.

I don’t need a cure, don’t need a cure.
Don’t need a cure, need a final solution.
I don’t need a cure, don’t need a cure.
I don’t need a cure, need a final solution.

Buy me a ticket to a sonic reduction,
guitars gonna sound like a nuclear destruction.
It seems I’m the victim of natural selection,
or maybe I’m on another side, in another direction.

I don’t need a cure, don’t need a cure.
Don’t need a cure, need a final solution.
I don’t need a cure, don’t need a cure.
I don’t need a cure, need a final solution.

Solution
Solution
Solution
Solution

Solution
Solution
Solution
Solution
Solution
Solution