Almost feels like that they're boulders based on how hard they are to move
It's not a comp'rable pain, though I lack the frame of ref'rence, true
In my chair, watching people streaming Paper Mario 2
Stereotypical diet 'cause I'd hate to move
So big rocks aren't my thing, that's right

But still I think it's fair to gripe 'bout how I keep finding chip-made dust
Always lies on my chest and gut and ev'rywhere but the bag, that sucks
And I've tried to take small bites but they're little chips, only can do so much
Hating this pile of chip-made dust

I don't get why you abhor me, not my fault I make this mess
May be engrossed in my stories but I'm still trying my best
Eating over the bag only, almost inside with ev'ry chip
But when they crunch, they're explode-y and all of the bits
Fall right onto my pants, ain't right

Think I like this mess on my thighs? I don't, I despise this chip-made dust
When I try to scrape it all off in the bin, it falls outside, it sucks
And if I'm especially dumb, I don't notice 'til it's bag twenty-one
A massive pile of chip-made dust

Ooh (ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh)
Ooh (ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh)

You can try to get me to try new methods to fight this chip-made dust
But you'll find that it's all been done, from bowls to just not eating the stuff
It ain't like you're innocent, bud, or is that not a sauce stain on your duds?
Live with the piles of chip-made dust