Your pudding cakes have made me sick
They're clear as mud or a pocket knife
Let's swim with dad without the wheelchair

I've sunk to the bottom and drown like a brick

These damn hiccups

Are bringing me down
I'm tired of reasons
It's time to fist fight

Old men and women
Sleep in the park
Then young children steal their stuff


Trap beavers in the woods then bring em' home
We can barbecue out back

With some propane gas
Make some room for dessert
We've got plenty of soup

We've got chicken noodle
Or the vegetable beef


Fiberglass

With malted barley selected cereal grains

And the choicest hops for superior taste
I've slipped in the bathtub
Just bring me a towel

Then put my slippers on
Before I freeze to death


Fiberglass