Busted twenty years ago, bit set out; My abode,
Speakin' this dame who's perchin' cookin' up these plots so cold.
Stings got dad, then brings mom's hearse, I guess I'd gone looney tunes,
Ripped cords - stuck another ho fly 'til dead.

Hoed 'em at my play ground, Won't be walkin' out; stiff died ho,
If one of these lasses knew, musty sweatin' mungs I bore.
Mom knew each time with honeies, took knife and shook her hands,
Dart board, stuck like a low, high and a win.

Mom banned sex it was obscene, said I was not to lay.
Knows of my last erection, hands out a prong to slay.
No foolin' around, no fun might stand, fluked like a barbeque,
Bates' lord, he runs such a low dive road inn.

Mmmmm...
It was boney near her collar, an ebony prong I'd slung,
It's Mommy's mind, it makes me slay, vile, evil mad like drunk.
And so when snatch is obtained, hack them limb from limb,
One more gets stuck in a low dive again.
One more gets stuck in a low dive again.