A porcupine doesn't have many friends Due to the needles that stand up at the ends No one really cares when a porcupine cries No one is there to weep when one of us dies No one ever approaches a hurt, sad porcupine Can't even attract a drunk with a case of wine No one wants to get close enough to start to care No one, for a small porcupine, is ever there Tears fall down their cute, small needled faces No one ever pays any attention to their small cases From place to place, we porcupines wander so slow There isn't a warm welcome at any place we go Seems like porcupines just can't please anyone