Ono

We were all alone

Then she bit my bone

I said let's sell the phone

Try to get away

I knew she was in heat

She nailed at my feet

Wet socks on the floor

But it's all the same

Last year we got sick

Doctors did the trick

Now I gotta use a stick

But it's still the same

Rough as a match-pad

Dry as a cactus

Oh, no

You go home

Post policemen fill up day

Student-teacher's license plates

Eat my dinner, words are gone

I feel slipped away

The moral is don't start

Even if you're smart

You don't have a chance

It's all the same

Rough as a match-pad

Dry as a cactus

Oh, no