[acoustic guitar intro]

Hey, Mr. Parody Man, think you're "dissin" me
As I'm reading I do not like what you're trying to do
Yes, I am pissed at you, man; I am greatly peeved
If I could your neck I'd strangle till your face would turn blue

Think it blows that this creep defiles my work with heavy hand
My thoughtful songs he pans
Man, his writing I can't stand; this dummy's feeble
His damn weird word replacements pique my anger and I seethe
So mad; can barely breathe
At my patience's end; yeah, soon I will be screaming

His god-damned parodies slam songs quite dear to me
Wish he'd cease this and then just refrain; but he won't do
Rein in this ass, is my plan; put him on a leash
Send this d*ckhead a stern warning; hope he can take a clue

Tasteless drivel drips out from this assh*le; thinks he's hip
My lyrics he does "diss", I'm angered, yeah, I'm pissed
This bozo's dumb as sh*t; I'm moaning at his "poo" spiels
Got me muttering
About to stain my underwear; his antics make me crazed
I'd like to smash his face; tasteless trash he writes does grate
It's garbage; I won't utter it

Man, this guy makes me so mad with his parodies
My work cheapened; think it's a disgrace; I'm going to sue
Wish this were just a dream and I'd awake to see
That this dip-wad lame-assed moron was done writing this "poo"

Though he might get laughs with his crap; it's because his fans are drunks
Drunks who laugh at stuff that's dumb; pains me greatly what he's done
What a nut this guy; he tears apart my phrasing
Fills instrumental spaces with insipid improv lines
No, I cannot stand this guy; he's a thorn in my backside
Wish he'd lay off of my lines; get distracted and obsess
'bout Tori Amos*

What might I say to this man? "Don't do this to me
Your stuff's cheesy and in awful taste; you know it's true
Please, dude, give me a break, man, from your parodies
Think it stinks, you thoughtless moron that you mangle my tunes"

[instrumental break]
[the {bracketed} lines below are sung lightly during the break by the Parody Author]
{Man, this is really good stuff, bet that Bob would laugh}
{then give me his autograph}
{and then he would indicate}
{that he thinks that I write great}
{and my ego would inflate}
{then more great stuff I'd create}
[starts humming the rest of the instrumental section]

I said, "Bob, please understand me, I would like to ease your mind
Think your songs are quite sublime; I'd hoped my posts would please
I must write parodies; it is my writer's niche
Yeah, I am twisted, but rarely do harm, though
Yes, these rants from my demented mind are just what came to me
How they get there; it beat me – brain receptor's might be jammed
Man, that LSD was greatsay, Bob, what did I just say?
Would you like to see this piece I'll post tomorrow?"

Bob said, "No, that's OK, man; don't have time to read
Must be leaving, hope you'll be OKget better soon"
"Hey, just what did he mean, man? Nothing's wrong with me
I will post this for tomorrow; hope you will read it through"