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I keep hanging around your kitchenette And I'm gonna get a pot to cook you in I stick my fingers in your biscuit jar And crush all your Gingerbread Men Cause I want you I want you to be my friend I want you I wanna be your solitary man Try not to wake the executioner He's sleeping with a fireman's axe He leaves his glass eye on the pillow And his dentures floating there in a glass What's this husband of yours ever given to you Oprah Winfrey on a plasma screen And a brood of jug-eared buck-toothed imbeciles The ugliest kids I've ever seen Now I know that you don't really dig him And I can see that you want it to quit But if you want to get your hand out of the cookie jar You have to let go of the biscuit!