| He’s the wasp in the jam, he’s the Dad at the party
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| The trash in the beauty spot
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| He’s the cloud in the sky, he’s the fly in the ointment
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| The nail in the parking lot
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| Let’s give the man a hug then put him out to grass
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| Feel sorry for the bug, the one that’s up his ass
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| We’re pulling out the plug, we’re turning on the gas
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| We’re turning on the gas
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| And he don’t like sunshine and he don’t like ice cream
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| And he don’t like Sundays and he don’t like dancing
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| Yeah, he don’t like dancing
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| He’s the frog in the throat, he’s the spot on the forehead
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| The crack in the window pane
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| He’s the leak in the boat, he’s the weed in the rose bed
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| The truck in the outside lane
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| So get the kids along and fill him up with love
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| Then sing a happy song yeah, really piss him off
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| 'Cause everything is wrong and nothing’s good enough
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| It won’t be good enough
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| And he don’t like sunshine and he don’t like ice cream
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| And he don’t like Sundays and he don’t like dancing
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| And he don’t like your face and he won’t die laughing
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| So chuck it and run, he’ll only make you mad
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| Just go and have some fun, the best you’ve ever had
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| And say, «Shoot me with a gun if I ever get like that»
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| Please don’t let me get like that
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| And he don’t like sunshine and he don’t like ice cream
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| And he don’t like Sundays and he don’t like dancing
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| And he don’t like your face and he won’t die laughing |