He's found himself in the closet After he lost to himself in a game of tic-tac-toe And tied his lobster bib tightly Then hid his cheat sheet, for the pop quiz he knew was soon to come
It's curtains for her She let the cat out of the bag And now she's up **** creek with ****** for paddles to go **** herself with Right in the birth canal
Then we'll auction off the ****** We'll pass them off as European defibrillators Maybe some extremist will want them If we spew out enough mindless dribble
The All Time ****-Show is about to begin We have The Chronic Masturbater The Hypochondriac And The Pathological Liar
It was either sometime yesterday Or sometime tomorrow Or was it sometime today? That you were all going to make fun of the boy with the cleft lip down at the laundromat?
Out of the three of you The Pathological Lair sticks out like a sore thumb I can tell he was the runt of the litter Who always bites off more than he can chew
I see the Hypochondriac has convinced himself he has eczema He rattles off all his symptoms Inordinate filibustering
Now there's the Chronic Masturbater He looks like he's over the hill He's only twenty one But the blue circles under his eyes and the deep defined lines on his forehead denote his inelegant aging
I sign all your lives away in my horrible cursive And now you belong to the ragtag trigger-happy posse of gun-jumpers My billfold his happily filled So I must go do some reconnaissance Spy on those who have quit their day jobs The fish out of water
You must find that thing that really rolls off the tongue with a nice ring to it ******! *******! *******?! ....*******?
No... Go hang youself with dental flossed you home-schooled fool