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Mike Stools
Brian is a cunt.
You can stick him underground.
Put him six feet under
Where he never will be found.
Let him rot and fester
In a casket of cheap pine
With plastic fake-brass handles
Where the sun will never shine.
Let me dance upon his grave
And sing a merry song
About the corpse beneath my feet
Down where it does belong.
Join me in a party
And spread wide the invitation
To anyone who'd love to
Celibrate his expiration.
Let us dig his coffin up
And bring it to the feast
Let us prise the lid open
And drag out the deceased.
Oh what fun and games we could have
With our guest of honour.
There's no need to leave him out
Just 'cos he's a goner.
Let us put on boxing gloves
And punch him in the face.
And then play "Who can kick the cunt
The furthest around this place?"
String him like a puppet
Make him dance Y.M.C.A.
And give a small voicebox
That just says, "I am gay".
Then let us hire a rent boy
Who's prepared to shag the dead,
And when he's done it up his arse
Will give old Brian his head.
And then return him to the grave
Amongst the grubs and worms.
Partied out to kingdom come
His sphincter full of sperm.
