Okay, all you pus suckin' motherfuckers out there
It's time to win a chance to butt-bang
Your daughter's tight virgin cherry ass
To caller number 666
The urge is too much to take
All I can think about is playin' with myself
It's time to masturbate
Well I've got my â€~Hustler' and I don't need nothin' else
Ginger, Ginger
My hand gets tired and my dick gets sore
But the girls of porn want more
So, I flip through the pages one more time
And I just let the jism fly
Yeah, yeah, yeah
A quarter for a peep show
A private booth or talkin' to a naked whore
Triple X video
976 and I can whack it on the phone
Nobody's home, I'm alone
â€~The Devil in Miss Jones'
Nobody's home, I'm alone
Asia and John Holmes
We got gushin' gonads, tinglin' tushes
Hairy balls and hairy bushes
S&M, whips and chains
Pregnant ladies with menstrual pains
We got hand jobs and nipple tweaks
Finger bangs and slappin' cheeks
We got rape, necro and both ways
And lots of hung studs for all you gays
We got incest and bestiality too
We got Sade and â€~The Sweetest Taboo'
We got girls who'll eat your pee and poo
And guys who'd love to fuck your shoe
There's shemales, lezbos and shaved beavers
And D cup mamas with so much cleave
Senior citizens who love to watch
And sniff those skid marks from your crotch, yeah
Ain't got no woman next to me
I just got this magazine
And what's on the TV screen
But that's okay with me
My hand gets tired and my dick gets sore
But the girls of porn want more
So I flip through the pages one more time
And I just let the jism fly
Yeah, yeah, yeah
I was trained to fuck you, baby
I, I, I, I was trained to fuck you, baby
I, I, I was trained to fuck you, baby
I, I, I, I was trained to fuck you, baby
Yeah, yeah, yeah
About This Song
"The Girls of Porn" is a deliberately provocative and deeply uncomfortable exploration of sexual addiction, objectification, and the dehumanizing effects of pornography consumption. Beneath its shocking surface lies a critique of how pornographic media creates an endless cycle of compulsive behavior and unrealistic expectations that can never be satisfied. The song presents its narrator as pathetically trapped in masturbatory obsession, with the crude language and graphic imagery serving to highlight the degrading nature of his addiction rather than glorify it. Musically, the track exemplifies Mr. Bungle's genre-defying approach, blending elements of funk, metal, and experimental jazz with abrupt tempo changes and Mike Patton's theatrical vocal delivery that ranges from sleazy crooning to aggressive outbursts. The production deliberately contrasts moments of musical sophistication with crude lyrical content, creating an unsettling juxtaposition that forces listeners to confront their own discomfort. The song's power lies in its unflinching portrayal of how pornography can reduce human sexuality to a mechanical, isolated act devoid of genuine connection or intimacy. For many listeners, particularly in the early 1990s alternative scene, the track resonated as a bold artistic statement that used extreme provocation to examine serious social issues around sexuality, media consumption, and male psychology. The song remains one of Mr. Bungle's most controversial pieces, demonstrating how shock value can serve deeper artistic and social commentary when wielded with intelligence and purpose.
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