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Song Details
Adventures In Creative Nostril-Swallowing (A Tribute To Plants That Suck) 
By: Worm Quartet
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Rank this week: 34 (↑32)
Duration: 2:18 
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Licensing: CC 
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Song Lyrics:
You smell like philosophy! I prance through a field of electric genitalia and invisible condiments, but gelatinous oven mitts and cellophane pancakes just keep humping rainbows. Nobody wears goggles to church anymore. Are you gargling your xylophone at the masturbating burrito parade? Oh no! This paste is NEAT! The poodle of harm is destroying your arm while the toastlord chisels panties into clichés. C’mon, Jesus! Get out your wigglin’ boots! Pudding is to justice as atheism is to the sound of a crepe-infested bellhop trying to glaze nine mice with a one-mouse glazing wand. Excessive yak-strumming can only lead to podiatry, but cultivating rectal atrocities makes it easier to alphabetize your shredded pets. When the batteries that fuel your carrot become the horse that won’t pucker, only then shall the pope become properly funky. I’ve just been elected Delaware! If the electric superduck disavows its own uvula and you’re really a collection of sentient clothespins held together by the wet dreams of our forefathers, then I want a receipt! C’mon, France, can’t you explode just a little? This wax replica of Barbra Streisand’s left penis proves that my maiden name is Julio P. Throb-o-tron. Stop impersonating my hairline! Your monkey had much better manners before it was on fire. Is your tugboat boneless or are we still excreting conical sorcerers? The liverless know not of diesel, and yet the moon is politely farting scriptures into the goat puddle while the drooling ambassador of stapler vomit has found a new way to turn condoms into bouillon! Let’s blame pumpernickel for apostrophes! I can’t schmuck-proof my mayonnaise until you admit that Mormons lick skates. Don’t even tell me you glued your urethra to another panther! Lend me your groin! Butter your shovel! Peel your apostles! Lubricate your acoustic waitress-hammer on a bed of boiled muppets! Taste the unfiltered nonchalance of my vine-ripened colander of pain! Marvel with soup-induced rage at my breathtaking lack of lumber or one day everything you’ve ever secreted will come back! You can neuter most of Skeletor with beans, and you can traipse like a tampon recycler through Iowa’s most cheeseless gnomeyard, but you can’t bathe pirates in Tucker Carlson’s nipples. Hey! Don’t eat my Jews! (weirdojace)
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