Beer runs to Fun King
Spending money's draining
Consciousness is waning
Beer runs to Fun King

Danny Bonaduce is a moron with a sissy baritone
Monica Bellucci is a storey taller than Sly Stallone
Quentin Tarantino, says Travolta, loves the feet of Sharon Stone

Clean little Buster leads dinner pray
Bathes every day, tryin' to stay proper
Sleeps in his Smurf underoos
Never gonna try any booze
Keeps a pic of Mom in his shoes
He's so well-behaved
He's so well-behaved

His sister Jan's an ugly slob
Chased by a mob, she's a pariah
Hangs him off the roof by his heels
Just to let him know how it feels
Makes him sell the stuff that she steals
When she's diggin' up graves
Diggin' up graves

Well, have you seen Jellybean Jan
She looks a little like Yosemite Sam
When testifying in church, they call her Reverend Lurch
But she won't be giving a damn
Yeah yeah yeah

Makes the most of having hunchback and quills
She's roly-poly when she's rolling down hills
Well, she's the kind of a frump who'd be at home in a swamp
And it appears she may be growing some gills
Yeah yeah yeah

She's gaining weight!
Oh, cook out!

She cable-chewed my last Nintendo
Electrified and nearly doomed
And now she's stricken dumb and slumbers
'Neath the tanks in my rumpus room

How could anybody sell her
How could any disagree
One day isn't only one way
You say oh, it's only me

She ate a tin of sex enhancer
Enough for fifteen chubs a day
Around the room she flew like Prancer
I was due, so I ran away

And so I got a leased apartment
And let myself become a slob
I heard she wound up in a belfry
Teaching bats how to weave and bob

How could anybody sell her
How could anyone but me
One say all alone is fun way
Two say oh, I know ennui, oh yeah