There’s horse shoes in the boxing gloves, pool balls in their socks, the fight will never be fair my friend, their teeth are made of rocks.

There’s horse shoes in the boxing gloves,
pool balls in their socks,
the fight will never be fair my friend,
their teeth are made of rocks.

They’re coming through the ceiling,
falling down the stairs,
with their swan vesta strike earholes,
and brillo brillo hair.

they’ll take the door right off its hinges,
with power tools and blue syringes,

They’ll engage you in discourse,
with a full head of nails,
while sliming round your ankles,
with fingers made of snails.

Their eyes are made of ping pong balls,
arms like knotted string,
they’ll tell you they come in peace,
but that don’t mean a thing.

They’re as bas as bad wallpaper,
on a stormy night
flapping up and down the walls,
giving everyone a fright.