Lyrics Weasel - Slow Gherkin

Weasel

I bought them just a week ago.
I thought they’d make good pets
But all they do is chew on me and smoke my cigarettes
My house is trashed, my scooter crashed, my Sunday suit is ruined--
Not to mention my white boy hide is one big open wound
My extremities are dismembered, and my poor old face is cut
And now here comes those razor teeth--they're lunging for my butt!
They drink my Beck’s, they fry on X, and all they do is rave
So one day I got sick of them, and I threw them in the goddamn microwave
Skankin' weasel, skankin' weasel!
Weasel, weasel!
I turned the knob to «super high» and pressed the button «cook.»
But then I saw the cord chewed through, and then the weasel booked
He darted in the kitchen and into the living room
I ran after him throwing knives and swinging my old broom
I swang and swang but did not hit--the weasel was too fast
So I got out my pocket knife and I hit one in the ass
Finally got a hold of one--the death sentence was dealt
I popped him in the pressure cooker and watched him slowly melt