Where are the guys? There's not even a fag!
But many freaks and ugly gals
The best ones all look like nasty trolls
Here is something wrong!

I think this gig here is not what it should be
My set of jokes they do not agree
But here's the main thing, I need the pay
My manager's a douche!

I'm the pre-show in a feminist bar
Dick jokes are downers up front so far
I'm a warm-up to the SCUM* manifest'
God, let me leave alive with my testes!

There is a grandma in a butch brazziere
From yore, not the very first time
The hotel behind of here
Is called the Beaver Fair

Red lights get in my eyes
It blows that I need the dough
And if boos could wear me down
I'd now be 4'1 (="four and one")

I do stand-up in this feminist bar
Crack jokes won't get me beer, only scars
I'm so out of place and luck that it sucks
Just wanna get my sixtynine bucks

[Guitar solo - as the song switches to past tense]

I kept ducking, as that torment went on
And I was planning escape routes half-time
All those navy cuts and butch cigars
No, I got no laughs, just scars

I did stand-up in a feminist bar
Boob puns was juggled way under par
I was called a fucking chauvinist shame
Just as my hands-on "change" was proclaimed

I bombed stand-up in a feminist bar
Doorkeepers called an ambulance car
I now have a carved #metoo on my chest
But had to leave behind my left teste