The Twirps Punchin' Bag samneace.com

Lyrics: Mad at God for taking your name in vain.
Claiming that you know all the answers, while claiming I'm insane.
Mad at the moon. mad at the sun.
Throw yourself a little fit.
Mad at everything.
You need something to hit.
Along comes little, old me
skipping through the daffodills.
You see my smile and it drives you wild.
Wanna show me how you feel.
Grab hold. Sling me around.
Treat me like an old, dirty rag.
No longer am I feeling happy.
I'm feeling like a punchin' bag.
One, two, tie my shoe.
Three, four, as I hit the door.
Five, six, it ain't no trick.
Seven, eight, don't you wait up late.
I'm not your punchin' bag (X4)
You might punch 'til I'm dead, but I go twelve rounds.
Better bring your A game, baby, or I'll knock you out. (X2)