As they pulled you out of the oxygen tent,
You asked for the latest party,
With your silicone hump,
And your ten inch stump,
Dressed like a priest you was,
Tod Browning's freak you was...

Crawling down the alley on your hands and your knees,
I'm sure you're not protected for its plain to see,
The diamond dogs are poachers and they hide behind trees,
Hunt you to the ground they will,