Le Can Can
The C.R.S. Players Lyrics

Red light, stop sign, go
I have no regard for traffic signals and will continue to move forward regardless of what they indicate.

Green light, go
I will continue moving forward without hesitation, even if it means putting myself in danger.

Yellow, go
I will ignore any cautionary signs and move forward regardless of potential risks or consequences.

Always, go
My desire to move forward is constant and unyielding, no matter what barriers or obstacles may be in my way.

I can't stop going to the forward direction (I can't stop, can't stop, can't stop)
My determination to keep moving forward is so strong that I feel powerless to resist it, even if I wanted to.

My breaks are broken and I'm ready to die (I can't stop going when I'm on the street)
I am knowingly putting myself in harm's way by continuing to move forward despite my broken brakes, and I am prepared to face the consequences of my reckless behavior.

Coming soon to all theaters near you
I am making a spectacle of my own death, and I am eager to share it with as many people as possible.

My death
I am fixated on the idea of dying and am actively seeking out ways to make it happen.

To all theaters near you
I want my death to be a public event, and I want everyone to bear witness to it.

Dr. Mark told me to go to Webster bank Withdraw thirty-seven dollars exactly (Rite-aid)
I am sharing a seemingly unrelated anecdote about visiting a bank to withdraw a specific amount of money, but the true meaning or relevance of this story is unclear.

But ATMs can't take out thirty-seven But he said if it's not thirty-seven I'll commit Suicide
While attempting to withdraw a specific amount of money from an ATM, I discovered that the machine was unable to dispense the amount I wanted. I was so distressed by this inconvenience that I threatened to harm myself if my request was not accommodated.

Die (Gon getcha)
I am fixated on the idea of dying and am urging myself onward toward a potentially fatal end.

I can't breathe my Suplexin man told me that I' dead Frozen feature of the week Wow, wow
I am experiencing intense physical and emotional distress, as if I am already dead or dying. The cause of my distress may be related to the actions or influence of someone called 'Suplexin man' or to some traumatic experience captured on film.

I can't stop, I can't stop freezing in position My brain hurts With this disposition (Can't stop, can't stop, can't stop, can't stop)
I am unable to stop or control my physical and emotional responses to some internal struggle or external stimulus. This struggle is causing me so much pain and discomfort that I am struggling to function normally.

All these guys coming into my lawn I have no choice but to shoot them (Waiting for the baby to come)
I perceive an intrusion or threat to my personal space and feel justified in using lethal force against those who are coming onto my property.

With my second amendment rights (Grrr) Can't stop, the only way to stop is by Giving teachers guns Cuz then, so then They could shoot all the kids and stop all school shootings Cuz all the kids would be dead The only way to stop school shootings Is arming the teachers So they can kill the kids And stop school shootings (Kill the kids) Arm the kids, arm the kids
I believe that the only way to prevent school shootings is to give guns to teachers, and that by doing so, they will be able to shoot and kill any potential attackers, even if it means also killing innocent children in the process.

Nope you're wrong
This is a rebuttal to someone who is arguing against my belief that the solution to school shootings is to arm teachers and allow them to kill children.

What are you, some type of snowflake thinking all the guns should go to the kids? (Kill Kill, kill)
I am ridiculing anyone who does not share my belief that children should not be given access to guns, and instead suggesting that anyone advocating for children's rights is weak or ineffective.

It requires a man of a larger doctorate (I can't stop, can't stop, can't stop) That can kill a child with his hands His bare hands He's gonna strangle the kids with his throat to the neck and Then his hands to the face and... And it's gonna be... Oooh it's gonna be good It's gonna be a little moist (He's gonna hang himself with his own intestines) And-and it's gonna be a little moist (he's gonna hang himself with his own intestines) And it's gonna be a little bloody and it's gonna be a little moist And it's gonna be a little bloody and it's gonna smell like cream All different types of cream There's gonna be seven-thousand types of cream on his fingernails afterward (Nanananananana) Underneath his fingernails is all the dead kids Every last one of them Every one (For the baby to come)
I am describing a violent fantasy in which a doctor uses his expertise to murder children using his bare hands, and is subsequently punished in a gruesome and disturbing way. The vividness and explicitness of the description suggest that I am deriving some pleasure or satisfaction from the violent fantasy.

Arm the teachers so they can kill the kids (I can't stop, can't stop, can't stop) Arm the teachers so they can kill the kids (Baby's gonna come soon)
I am repeating my belief that giving guns to teachers is the only way to prevent school shootings, and that allowing them to kill students is a justifiable means to that end.