Paroles de Turboyeast

I have a nasty little itch in a particular niche You might not want to watch I'm going to rip out my crotch But when you find you have got that special feminine rot You'll do anything to make it go away I've been considering a hairbrush Considering a knife If it won't go away don't want to go on with life In all complete candor a small belt sander Might just about do it You'd have to sand right through it I've been thinking that embalming Might somehow be more calming A chemical that surpasses lethal mustard gases To kill the little beast In its fungal little feast