I keep hanging around your kitchenette
And I'm gonna get a pot to cook you in
I stick my fingers in your biscuit jar
And crush all your Gingerbread Men
'Cause I want you
I want you to be my friend
I want you
I wanna be your solitary man
Try not to wake the executioner
He sleeping with a fireman's axe
He leaves his gla** eye on the pillow babe
And his dentures floating there in a gla**
What's this husband of yours ever given to you
Oprah Winfrey on a plasma screen
And a brood of jug-cared buck-toothed imbeciles
The ugliest f**ing kids I've ever seen
Now I know that you don't really dig him
And I can see that you want it to quit
But if you want to get your hand out of the cookie jar
You have to let go of the biscuit!