Sneering at a leering lady As she stares and squirms At Wanda with her saintly smile And living wig of worms I like to watch their faces fall As we disgust and shame them Seeking suckers is my game - no longer lion taming. Like a pink and pregnant pumpkin Perched upon her neck Wanda Wadkins head was hurting It was bitten by insects I watched the awkward way she waddled Walking to the pail She always used to wash her worms And clean beneath her nails I love the soul I see inside her But I just can't love her Folding fat that rolls around Like bowling balls in butter.Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
