My keister's sore
That's why I'll stand
In need of pain relief

And like some devil's horny brow
Cruel 'em'rhoids give me grief

Maybe my armor-plated chair
Is what made, my butt bleed

Sand in my swim trunk pants
Scraped hair off my ass sphincter ring

And though I hoped that
Pain would go down
I still can not
Bear to sit down


My keister's sore
Upholstery
Cannot be soft enough

I'm in my smoothest boxers now
But e-ven silk feels rough

And now my scab-encrusted ass
Sits sore here, painfully

Witch Hazel's washed across that place
But nothing, has healed me

And though I hoped that
Pain would go down
I still can not
Bear to sit down


My keister's sore
I'll drink some wine
I must get so sh*t-faced

For though I drank a beer or two
I'm still sore in that place

And though the booze is smooth and cool
I start to feel like, such a fool

(For) Though I chugged three jugs of wine,
My rectum still feels, like rawhide!

I'm such a dumb-ass
Why did I think
My pain would pass
After twelve drinks?

And now I start to
Feel very odd
Time to pray to
Porcelain god