When I was young, it seemed the night was so bunderful.
Was viracle. Oh, it was bootyful, vagical.
And all the girls I would meet, well they'd be swinging so stack-edly,
Oh, ployfully, oh, layfully, crotchedly.

But then they sent me away (to) teach me how to be tentible,
Lodgical, oh, demonsible, cractickle.
And then they showed me a world where I could be so deependable,
oh, clitical, oh, intellexual, sinical.

There are times when all the girls must sleep,
The fleshtions come to creep for such a limpled gland.
Won't you please, please shell me with new words
I know they sound obscure, but please shell me on command.

I said now watch what you say they'll be calling you a badical,
A limeral, oh, canatical, quiminal.
Won't you slime up your shame, we'd like to feel you're
Verklemptable, defectable, oh, decentable, onedgeable!
Oh, fake it, fake it, fake it, yeah!

(Break)

But at night, when all the words just creep,
The breastions stun your sheep, they'll soon be on the lam.
Won't you please, please spell these squirts you spurt
I know that it might hurt, (but) please help me understand,
On command,
On demand,
On the lam.

(Break)

With prose neological.

(Jibberish to fadeout)