I hate the taste of dead bodies in the morning.
They always make me feel like a paradoxic monkey man.
Loose Caboose, the attack without warning,
Someone ought to tell them there’s more to life than being dead.
You can always tell the ones that give a guy the vapors.
Crunchy fungus fingernails just don’t satisfy.
My sleepyhead coma needs a downshift kickstart.
Tubes of Schivo going into my eyes
Giving some thought to the pots and pans
Put a little lightning in your pants
Giving all the spare ribs a second glance
Make a peace sign do the safety dance
Like a big black yodel bouncin’ on a TV
Saying: “I am all you need – Eat Me!”
If you think that’s strange just wait and see
As I get to the creamy filling of a chocolate conspiracy
Yeah, I'd rather be rich than stupid.
Giving some thought to the pot demand
Like a Don Quixotic ceiling fan
Spinning my wheels in the villainous sand
Making love to my pituitary gland