Lyrics:

The tic begins where's the manner end?
The climate change will never get in
Silent and strong is prepossessed
You never need to make you own mess

Weasel to me is charming to some
Loathsome and glib, habits like self-love
Wearing slim fast, you carve your niche
Lean smug back and work your pitch
And all the way I've gone
No demon race to find
You paint it up and know
That any face can lie

And all the way I've gone
No demon race to find
You paint it up and know
That any face can lie
Affect my greatest style
What suits me best of all
I keep my pocket filled
Lean right and fall

Thank you very much
Have a great day