Spasm waiter dropping to his knees, sees

Slander on wrap paper ties

Lifting up his head he feels the sunlight in his eyes



Grasp a kettle top and shoot the breeze, please

Ramble while slop scraper sighs

Tossing in his bed at night he'll dream until he dies



Operations at the sink

The dribble liquid visible beneath his troubled eyes

Feels it tilt and start to slide



Mask a pretty hopper's foot with squeeze cheese

Dangle some grape apple pies

Tranquil and serene until he runs out of supplies



Your hands and feet are mangos

You're gonna be a genius anyway



Your hands and feet are mangos

You're gonna be a genius anyway



[All three verses superimposed upon one another