folks, i'd like to sing a song about the adolescent dream
about me
about you
about the way our adolescent hearts beat way down in the bottom of our chests
about that special feeling we get in the cockles of our hearts [why not, it was pubescent humour the first time 'round]
maybe below the cockles, maybe in the sub-cockle area
hopefully not in the liver or anywhere near the kidneys
and i don't want to know anything about your colon, so don't ask me
i'm just a regular kid, with an afterschool job
and occasionally part of an unruly mob
i like baseball, and lego, and games with high scores
i've got an average room where you can't see the floor
my mom and my dad,
our cat and our dog
my feet on the sofa,
and my secret pet frog.
but sometimes that just ain't enough to keep a kid like me interested (oh no, no way, uh-uh)
so i gotta go out and have fun at someone elses expense (oh yeah, yeah yeah, yeah yeah yeah)
i walk really slow in big lines when it rains
while people behind me are going insane
i'm an uh-oh (he's an uh-oh, what an uh-oh)
i'm an uh-oh (he's an uh-oh, such an uh-oh)
i use public toilets and i saran wrap the seats
i run around in the summertime and i never wash my feet
i'm an uh-oh (he's an uh-oh, what an uh-oh)
i'm an uh-oh (he's worlds biggest uh-oh)
sometimes i fart in fancy-pants places
while fancy-pants people make fancy-pants faces
i'm an uh-oh (he's an uh-oh, what an uh-oh)
i'm an uh-oh (he's a big troubled uh-oh)
maybe i shouldn't be singing this song
mommy is crying and dad says that it's wrong
good thing my attention span isn't that long
hah!
i'm an uh-oh (he's an uh-oh, what an uh-oh)
i'm an uh-oh (he's worlds biggest uh-oh)
you know what i'm gonna do, i'm gonna get myself a nice big economy sized bundle of toilet paper from the local grocers, 2 ply, with lots of fluffy white softness and all the absorbency you could ask for and pictures of flowers printed on every single square, yeah! and i'm going to take that toilet paper and wrap it around other peoples cars, right around the undercarriage, all through the wheel wells and up into the exhaust pipe, and i'm going to leave the windshields free so i can smear vaseline all over them and when i'm done smearing cars with petroleum jelly i'm going to wipe my bum with other peoples mail and put the letters back in the wrong mail boxes and there ain't a gosh darned thing anybody can do about it. do you know why? because i got my mom, that's why. 2 words. emotional freakin' manipulation, OK?. neighbors, teachers, postmen, they can have all the discipline they want, they can have a big discipline spank-walk right through the middle of nathan phillips square and it won't make a lick of difference because i've got my mom. OK?
your cat's not dead, he's frozen and as soon as you find him in amongst the mixed peas you're going to thaw him out he's going to be really ticked off. do you know why? have you ever taken a cold shower? well multiply that by 15 gazillion times, that's how ticked off your cat's gonna be. so go get your cat, and your hat, and your fox and your socks, take 'em out of the freezer, and drive down to the vet's
(you know you really were an uh oh) why don't you shut up and sing the song pal
i'm an uh-oh (he's an uh-oh, what an uh-oh)
i'm an uh-oh (he's worlds biggest uh-oh)
emm, eye ess, tea eh, kay ee, everybody
M, I-S, T-A, K-E
ruff, ruff ruff, ruff ruff, ruff ruff
{place strange sounds here}
i'm an uh oh and i'm proud of it
there, that should do it... no bad words at all, that should definitely be safe for kids...
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