Lyrics

(Verse 1 – Casual waiting room vibe)
Sittin’ in the waiting room, scrolling on my phone,
Four of us in silence, awkward, but we’re grown.
A cough in the corner, a sigh from the chair,
A subtle, sterile tension just hangin’ in the air…

(Dramatic pause)
… Until a sound erupts—OH LORD, WHAT the Fuck
Like a bass drop from HELL, SHOOK THE WHOLE DAMN BLOCK
We all snap our heads up, eyes wide in dismay,
But the culprit?
Deadpan. Not a flinch. Nothing to say.

(Pre-Chorus – Existential crisis begins)
Wait… am I judgin’ too fast?
I mean… everybody farts, it’s a natural act!
But he didn’t even shift, didn’t even blink,
Now the stench rolls in—OH MY GOD IT STINKS.

(Chorus – Panic sets in, synths get wilder)
🎶 WHAT DID HE EAT?! WHO RAISED THIS MAN?!
WHY NOT THE BATHROOM? WAS THIS HIS PLAN?!
WHY ISN’T HE ASHAMED? WHERE IS MY DOCTOR?!
IF THE NURSE CALLS ME NEXT, WILL I GET BLAMED?! 🎶

(Verse 2 – The smell gets worse, survival mode engaged)
The air turns thick, my vision goes blurry,
The lady across from me—she looks real worried.
She starts to sway, eyes rollin’ back,
Oh lord, we’re losin’ her—SHE CAN’T TAKE THE ATTACK.

And this dude? This absolute menace
Sits there calm, like his ass ain’t a weapon.
No ring on his finger—maybe she left
Because he farts like a war crime with zero regret.

(Bridge – Spiraling into madness, jazz breakdown with dramatic monologue)
🎶 Fart-itis? Yeah, sounds legit… inflammation of the farts, man, that's gotta be it.
Maybe that’s why he’s here, maybe he’s sufferin’ too…
But bro, don’t take US down with YOU! 🎶

(Outro – A glimmer of hope, only to be shattered again)
The door pops open—"Mrs. Thompson?"
She’s free! She escapes! But what about the rest of us?!
We sit in the fog, we sit in the pain,
And that dude still AIN’T GOT A DAMN THING TO SAY.

(Sudden dramatic cut-off, then whisper:)
“…bro. What did you EAT?”


(This Mothafucker ....)