| There’s a mushroom on my eyelid
|
| There’s a carrot down my back
|
| I can see in the distance
|
| A vast quantity of beans
|
| To you I’m just a flavour
|
| To make your stew taste nice
|
| Oh my god, here come the onions
|
| And — I don’t believe it! |
| — at least a pound of rice
|
| There was a time when bacon sandwiches
|
| Were everyone’s favourite snack
|
| I’m delicious when I’m crunchy
|
| Even when I’m almost black
|
| So why you make a soup with me
|
| I just can’t understand
|
| It seems so bloody tasteless
|
| Not to mention underhand
|
| Now there’s no hope of getting out of here
|
| I can feel I’m going soft
|
| Dirty waters soak my fibres
|
| The whole saucepan’s getting hot
|
| So I may as well resign myself
|
| Make friends with a few peas
|
| But I just, I can’t help hoping
|
| That a tummy ache will bring you to your knees
|
| Bring you to your knees
|
| Bring you to your knees
|
| Bring you to your knees
|
| (repeat to fade) |