Just a Swamp-town girl on a Bollywood night
Keeping up the fraud of a wife
In the video swirl no one sees her at all
But they all say she's frisky
Slapping hands around at a Hindi shindig
Changing woman into life* ..... (What does that mean?)
Oh this stanza has turned into a danger zone
Where the lyrics become a trap
God these lyrics are so trite
They really raise my ire
They might defeat my will to comedy

Hil's a maniac, MA-niac on the floor
And she's dancing in a way we should deplore
She's a maniac, MA-niac at the 'Wood
And she's dancing like a human never should

On the ice blue line of insanity*
Is some nonsense I didn't foresee
How I should spoof this is a mystery
Touch it but can't hold it* (What the F is he talking about?)
God, I couldn't even do a meta-parody here
'Bout how dreadful these lyrics are
Because their sheer awfulness would defeat the attempt
And I wouldn't make it to the last line**
That was a total, wretched cheat
Two more times I must repeat
Then this last line 'tween swill and comedy

He's no brainiac, BRAI-niac with this tune
And he's writing like a lyrical buffoon
He's a brain-iac, DRAIN-iac with this song
And his lyrics should be greeted with the gong

God those lyrics were so trite
The producer should be fired
If not, there should be some inquiries

He's no brainiac, BRAIN-iac, I sure know
He reminds of that kid on the banjo
He's a brain-iac, DRAIN-iac, I sure know
And he's writing like he's fried his brain on blow
He's a maniac, MA-niac with the words
And he's writing like his dementia has recurred

(It's too damn bad, the stanzas are so poorly written, cause you can mine a lot of humor in the refrain; the refrain's hilarious ... For example here's a tribute to Jason Voorhees)

He's a maniac, MA-niac on the screen
And he's slashing like he has no love for teens
He's a maniac, MA-niac at the lake
And he's stalking like he has more lives to take

(And on the occasion of the first gymnast from Bosnia Hercegovina making the Olympics, this would be the music for her tumbling routine)

She's a Bosniac, BOS-niac on the flloor
And she's tumbling like she needs a perfect score
She's a Bosniac, BOS-niac at the Games
And she's dancing like she'll never be constrained

(And now a tribute to Vladislav Tretiak, all time great goalie for the USSR, written by Mikhail Sembelov, official song parodist of the Soviet Winter Olympic Committee)

He's a Tretiak, TRE-tiak in the net
And he's tending like he'll never break a sweat
He's a Tretiak, TRE-tiak in the crease
When he takes the ice, your scoring soon will cease

(And here we go with the true mother's helper, the baby formula SIMILAC)

She's got Similac, SIM-ilac in her purse
And she's rumm'ging cause her baby needs to nurse
She's got Similac, SIM-ilac on the shelf
And she needs it cause she cant express herself