All the drafts

Look up on the wall, there on the floor,
Underwear yellowed, behind’s galore,
There’s a crack in your rearend
Somewhere there’s a butt blasting, gas: methane!
Is your butt lighting flames,
Tell me is your butt lighting flames?

(when you rip it) your underwear
(when they smell it) you wreck the chair
All the drafts in your underwear
All the drafts…

If you’re crappin’…muck’s the word
Cos you’re making…some weird awful smell!
When you turn your right butt cheek,
Even when you go hit the porcelain throne,
Don’t you smell that by now,
Oh man don’t you smell that big growl!

(when you rip it) you break the chair
(when you break wind) you rot the air
All the crap…it’s real runny there
All the crap…diarrhea flare!


You grunt it, you got wind, you gotta go
You hold it, you can’t wait, there she blows!


Lots of confusion, wholesome grains,
A repression, of sundried ex-lax stain
When you wake and bake brownies,
Your behind is covered in yellow flames.

Well, there’s a hole in underwear
Yeah, there’s a hole in underwear
Hey, you’ve got holes in your underwear
Now there’s a draft in here somewhere.

(when you rip it) you let it flare,
(when you break wind) you rot the air,
All the drafts you rip anywhere.
All the drafts…