 So this is my last song, (oh, no, don't go). And, uhm, yeah, it's, uhm, I'll end it with, uhh, something about love.
She got me with her looks, she got me with her stare,
Bright blue eyes and her long, blonde hair.
From the start, it was easy to see, this was the girl for me.
Who cares if she was eighty-three?
She could make me silent, she could make me shout,
And she drove me wild with those dentures out.
When we ate, people said we were rude,
Because I had to pre-chew her food.
Her skin was saggy, so was the rest,
I put my hand up her skirt and I felt her breast.
We made love and the more that I thrust,
The more the room was covered in dust. (coughs)
The room was covered in dust.
Then one day, I felt a chill,
As I woke up from my bed,
She was lying there real still,
My little lady was already dead.
The wake happened on a Saturday night,
I just sat there and bowed my head,
A little girl was on my right,
Crying because her grandma was dead.
And that little girl she,
Got me with her looks, got me with her tears,
Feminine beauty beyond her years.
From the start, it was easy to see,
That was the girl for me.
Who cares if she was only three?
A good note to end the show on. Pedophelia.
See you guys.
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