Lay, Kenny Lay

Lay, Kenny Lay, lay across the Lincoln bed.
Lay, Kenny Lay, lay across the Lincoln bed.

Whatever blackmail you have in your mind:
I don't know you, I'll say, if you ever try.
Lay, Kenny Lay, lay across the Lincoln bed.
Play, Kenny, play along with my "lack of guile."
The day's about to break—help me get rid of the files.
Our hands are dirty, but your glans has sheen.
And I'll fress it long as you say I'm clean.
Stay, Kenny, stay; sink your oil drill in my smile.
Don't wait any longer to fly to the Caymans—
The flakes at Justice might get you.
That's doubtful, but they might give you a shove,
To prove they're not crooks, like me and you.
Lay, Kenny Lay, lay across the Lincoln bed.
Stay, Kenny, stay, while I'll nip—not bite—your head.
Don't wanna see you in the morning light.
Get to the airport and catch your flight.
Stay, Kenny, stay—just long enough for some more head.