| I hate you and your stupid bass |
| What’s it like out there in space? (You ought to know) |
| I hate you and your giant kick |
| You make me laugh, you make me sick |
| I hate you and your spinning sticks |
| Your platform boots and your insane chicks |
| Your long blonde hair blowing in my face |
| A platinum God? You’re a big disgrace! |
| I hate you! |
| I hate you, your spider eyes |
| A guillotine, oh, big surprise! |
| I hate your broken pointed nose |
| Your big fat mouth that you never close |
| I hate you and that guitar pout |
| Those tired riffs we all laugh about |
| Hate your stinkin', pudgy fingers on the neck |
| You’re the King of America, but you’re no Jeff Beck! |
| I hate you! |
| H-A-T-E Y-O-U |
| H-A-T-E Y-O-U |
| Oh, yes I do |
| We hate you, we hate your sneer |
| The cigarettes, the smell of beer |
| The mutton chops, the switchblade knife |
| Your unapologetic life |
| But, most of all we’re filled with rage |
| At the empty space you left on stage (What a sid) |
| H-A-T-E Y-O-U |
| H-A-T-E Y-O-U |
| H-A-T-E Y-O-U |
| H-A-T-E Y-O-U |
| Hate you |