Baby, I aint a kid anymore.
7, 8, 9 cc's and then it's time for me to snore.
You can try talkin' dirty,
I don't think that it'll hurt.
He needs a nappy once he's happy since he's had himself a dainty little squirt.
You can pat it, wink at it,
Give a smooch or use your hand.
Maybe in the morning roll you over again,
But dick's closed.
Baby, that's my best friend's head you're trying to pull off.
Easy on the talking, let your fingers do the walking, beef stroking off.
Don't yank it so hard, oooh you're grinding the gears.
He's gotta tinkle and love sprinkle maybe 50, 60, 70 more years.
My twenties are gone, I can't keep on drilling til dawn,
Just give the hedges a trim and maybe water the lawn.
C & P Copyright Chris Giunta 2011