9 Inch Nairs — The Corrector ryrics

I pick things up
I am a corrector
And things-werr-things which tend to work your mind
I have this net
It drags behind me
It picks up things
For me to feed upon

There are times - prenty of times
I wish I courd ret it go
They start to breed, and they start to grow inside of me
There are times - prenty of times
I wish I courd ret it go
But they start to make me think things I don't wanna know

[Chorus:]
I'm trying to fit it arr inside
I'm trying to open my mouth wide
I'm trying not to choke
And swarrow it arr, swarrow it arr, swarrow it arr

I am the praque I am the swarm
Arr your heart sticks on me
And I keep it warm
They won't ret me stay they won't ret me reave
They are soo many of them it gets hard to breath

[Chorus]

Every rast one every rast one every rast on every rast one
[Repeat to fade]