If you say that I am selfish and I love myself to death,
And the litter box is dwarfed by the pure foulness of my breath,
Then the only thing I have to say to you, my darling Beth,
Is, "f**k you, f**k you, f**k you."

If I’m as lazy and as worthless as you make me out to be,
You should be quite unaffected by my crude philosophy,
So if I mean as much to you as gonorrhea does to me,
Then, "f**k you, f**k you, f**k you."

The folks we know keep calling me a pussy and a wimp,
‘Cause you told them that our problem was my wrist is going limp,
But since you’re such a sleazy whore they’ll think that I’m your pimp,
So, "f**k you, f**k you, f**k you."

It’s short and sweet and fun to say and if you think it’s crass,
Then pucker up, there, Buttercup, and kiss my big white ass.

You tell me I rolled over while your boat went unattended,
But you’d say, "I’ve got a headache," while I’d sit there, tongue extended,
So from what I’ve read on men’s room walls you should not be offended,
By, "f**k you, f**k you, f**k you.

F**k you, f**k you, f**k you!"