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    "The Penis Song" Lyrics


    Buckminster Fuller, inventor of the geodesic dome
    Once gave a lecture he entitled 'everything I know'
    Taking the title literally, he spoke four years or so
    And I intend to do the same, so make yourself at home
    (Pull up a chair, smoke a cigar or something)
    Cynthia Plaster Caster once took my cast and showed me
    In a penis exhibition in a gallery on Broadway
    So many people saw my penis in its glass case
    They recognise my penis now before my face

    The subject for today: does knowledge elevate or demean us?
    Everything you didn't want to know about my penis

    A baker has a penis thing for flattening the dough
    But stick it in the oven and it rises up, like so
    The man who chops the melons up with a long and pointed knife
    Has a penis with a mottled skin, I know, I asked his wife
    (Very curious)
    A priest beneath his cassock has a penis just the same
    Some call the hypothalamus the penis of the brain
    One man's sport is fly fishing, and the other's, pocket billiards
    Congratulations, Watson, on your almost-Freudian brilliance

    The comedian from hell always thinks he can entertain us
    With everything we didn't want to know about his penis

    Like the heather of the Highlands, mine is tipped with flecks of purple
    With a head as wise as Solomon, although shaped like a turtle
    It wears a flesh-tone roll-neck and the neck goes up and down
    It comes out in the evenings and on Friday paints the town

    Obsessively, compulsively, it only wants one thing
    To fill your chosen orifice with ropes of pearly string
    Delivering its message to your womb or to your tongue
    And then going slack and flaccid when its pressing work is done

    In witty conversation, by drip or intravenus
    I drop everything you didn't want to know about my penis
    (Some sort of Tourettes Syndrome)

    It's a very fine philosopher, debating right and wrong
    Shows promise as a songwriter (it writes most of my songs)
    Don't bury it in boxer shorts but wear it like a tie
    Or avant garde jewellery hanging from your fly
    (Very chic!)
    Jean Luc Godard once declared, to gales of mystified laughter
    That some men wash their hands before they touch it, others after
    And if you slot it carefully where the sun will never shine
    You'll feel what's mine becoming yours, what's yours becoming mine

    Well ladies and hermaphrodites, my tender-hearted readers
    Everything you didn't want to know about my penis

    There was a bohemian monk
    Who went to bed in a bunk
    He dreamt that Venus
    Was stroking his penis
    And woke up all covered in

    Thought for the day: does abstinence dirty us or clean us?
    Everything you didn't want to know about my penis

    It's a tribute to the power of something otherwise mundane
    That waving it under a stranger's nose is said to scar his brain
    I'm doing my bit to see the power of taboo remains intact:
    I keep a penis on my head but never lift my hat
    (I keep a penis on my head but never lift my hat)

    And if I've bored you stiff with this riff about my penis
    I wouldn't let a little thing like that come between us

    And if you can think of another song even more atrocious
    Well supercalifragilisiticexpifuckingdocious
    This song was submitted on October 18th, 2016.
    Copyright with Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC.
    Written by Nicholas Currie.
    Lyrics licensed by LyricFind.

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