| Lyrics |
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.
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