Lyrics
"Hotwife of Pi" shit, life is fucking boring "Pi try ignore it and tell a story" a story about what Im sick of writing about falling and im only half way in "so try exploring with a different core and instead of falling, why dont you try and write about soaring" sawing I thought you didnt like when i wrote about murder "what no you must have misheard, not sawing people up into pieces, soaring like birds" a murder of crows "no Pi" oh, meh Ive already wrote about flying, Mayday Kate, and I couldnt make it soar, Im sore I spent more credits than I can afford waiting at the gate trying to get the drafts past the lock on the cockpit door and Im sure that if that would have crashed the black box would have been playing my own voice back, and thats crap and aint capped at five thousand so that would have been laced with lines of lines that didnt make it to where the final flight is but I brought my baggage, buckled up and blamed the pilot but the pilot was me see what I mean "yeah, ok, maybe not flying then, errrrr, the ocean" drowning Done it "ehh, ok, what about the ocean, but this time you dont die" ewww, why Pi aint a pirate eh, I dont know, you dont like shit, how about some Hotwife stuff, ha a whole album with four versions of compersion not enough "for fuck sake Pi, why have you got to be so difficult, what about the jungle" the jungle What would I write about the jungle "I dont know, ok, err" Ive never even been to the jungle "alright, well i dont know then" youve never been to the jungle either "I get it, just leave it" so, murder "whatever, i dont care" yay, ok lets stop being boring pull out the saw and dismember every member of the audience sort them by the sound of their applauses and if they aint clapping im dragging the dickheads across the floor up to the front but dont label me a stubborn cunt I just do this for fun the story starts in a metal tray, so lets play, mate this aint a stunt a protagonist taking the piss in portions blood pouring and dripping off the stage again I love the fucking sight of it, I wanna bathe in it split the sternum open and spread the ribcage innit curtains open on the organs sorted food but slighly distorted liver dark even beneath the lighting lungs collapsed and fucking contorted stomach slicing kidneys plucked from behind the lining spleen gleaming purple near the spine and colon coiled in spices across the table chop it in slices for extra fine dining drift the scalpel, lift the scalp and fold it backwards stacking the skull reduced to seven sections as this bastards brain bleeds below beneath the casing press my fingers in to create the space and twist the brain and "stop, Pi stop" whats wrong I kept it toned down for you "no, not that" then whats up "Im sure weve been here before" well, yeah of course, we live here "ughh your so fucking annoying, i mean this song, havent we already done this" ermmmmm, no "you sure" yeah, kind of, maybe "yeah, we have I know it, let me check" alright, while you do that im gonna butcher a few more of these dickheads, yeah yeah, sure, whatever sorry about that everyone, we just had to take a little break now, where were we "wait.... hold on, Pi it was writers block" what.... "writers block.... that was the same as this song, you couldnt think of an idea and then start murdering people" writers block was nothing like this, that was surgical, this one, not so much Speaking of which, we might need some towels "yeah, kitchen side, but Pi writers block was nearly identical to this song wait" whats up now "where the fuck did the audience come from" I thought you let them in "no I didnt let anyone in" oh well Id ask them but, somebody, might have potentially murdered them all "Im, im not dead, ple, please help me Please" "shut up" "noone was speaking to you But Pi this song, its still basically writers block" ok, maybe a little similar, but that gives me a great idea for the hook "dont you think its a bit late for a hook now, we only have a few hundred characters left" its never too late for a hook, look fuck, writers block dont help that the writers blocked pricks high out his kite a lot sat outside tryna find a plot should take a break but his mind wont stop "I cant deal with you any more Im gonna make a start on the mess you made" fuck, it really is just writers block again "Hotwife of Pi" © 2026 Hotwife of Pi. All rights reserved. All lyrics are original works written and published under the name Hotwife of Pi and are protected by applicable copyright law. No part of these lyrics may be copied, reproduced, republished, distributed, adapted, performed, recorded, transmitted, used for artificial intelligence or machine-learning training, or otherwise exploited, in whole or in part, without prior written permission from the copyright holder, except where permitted by law.