I can't make my penis any longer
Despite a zillion e-mail guarantees
There's not some big shortcoming with my do-o-onger
The ac-tual problem is my gut's grown past my knees

I tell myself I should cut out carbohydrates
But that would mean less pretzels with my beer
And though it sucks to shock and awe my bli-i-ind da-a-ates
I've got more spots for gerbils
Than a guy like Richard Gere

My diet should be stricter
But that's a useless fight
When the scale I use is Richter
And my butt's a launching site
And I've won more Oscars than Brando for cell-u-li-ite

And I can't find my penis anymorrre
I've forgotten where it used to be beforrre
I'm scared it's been exposed by Michael Moorrre
Or banned by Tipper Gorrre
Foreverrr

'Cause I can't find my penis anymorrre
I've forgotten what that part was even forrr
It may have been sent off to fight the warrr
Or caned in Singaporrre
Frankly, I can't find my penis anymore

[Guitarrr solo]

My goal has been to go on Extreme Makeoverrr
And become all svelte and svexy like my dreams
But I'd ditch that all for a big bu-u-ull-do-o-o-zerrr
That would bury me in Big Macs
And then pile on Krispy Kremes

I've grossed out my reflection
He wishes he was blind
When I gaze at my midsection
Why do sperm whales spring to mind?
And I'm getting larger than Rosie and Shrek combined

And I can't find my penis anymorrre
I've forgotten what I started looking forrr
I might as well give up the Trojan Warrr
I've lost my chance to scorrre
Foreverrr

'Cause I can't find my penis anymorrre
There's no Dick Van Dyke for Mary Tyler Moorrre
I'd like to drag my ass up off the floorrr
But standing up's a chorrre
And I just can't find my penis anymorrre