Hello, bean soup, my old friend
You're talking back to me again
I feel your presence slowly creeping
Gastric forces mean no sleeping
First a flutter
Then the pressure and the pain
Their refrain
Will build The Sound Of My Vents

Mimicked are tones of sawing trees
Muffled angry bumble bees
The motorcycle at the corner
A funeral service and real sad mourner,
Feeling eyeballs burn
With strong fumes, that the nostrils fight
They split the night,
The awful Sound Of My Vents

I fan the covers for defense
Against the foe of flatulence
There's no winning way to battle
The power of stampeding cattle
Really nothing I can do to hold it back
So loud and black
Now comes The Sound Of My Vents

I exhaust a Greyhound bus,
My poor wife, oblivious
There's no way that I can save her
Systems all go, cannot waiver
Oh, poor Jane, alas, I knew her well
She reaps the harrowed hell Of My Vents

Beside the bed, a mushroom cloud
I'm ashamed, yet slightly proud
Cat escapes, but late, the warning
Gasping in the fresh air morning
Pet canary, lies dead with it's feet up
Large pictures, shatter off the walls
The Richter scale stalls
No meter scrawls The Sound Of My Vents