Lyrics:

Curses, invocations
Weird bate-headed mongrels
I keep expecting one of you to rise.

Large buxom obese queens
Garden hogs and cunt veterans
Quaint cabbage saints
Shit hoarders and individualists
Drag strip officials
Tight lipped losers and
Lustful fuck salesmen
My militant dandies
All strange order of monsters
Hot on the trail of the woodvine
We welcome you to our procession.

Here come the comedians
Look at them smile
Watch them dance an Indian mile.
Look at them gesture
How aplomb
So to gesture everyone.

Words dissemble
Words be quick
Words resemble walking sticks.
Plant them they will grow
Watch them waver so.

I'll always be a word man
Better than a bird man.