The b-i-t-c-h knew that One was the loneliest number
She'd "carry on" this secret unto her demise
And that "crazy old scene" that she made at the "cafe"
Was not as uplifting as bu*tlifting time
Was not as uplifting as bu*tkissing time...
And the bicentennial celebration
The one that we had when our dad was alive,
Had sweet charity in the heart of a hustler,
And later,
When he was laid down in his coffin,
The love flowed so precious and the time was so grave,
And we danced in the darkness,
The flickering candles,
"When will I die, Lord?"
She prayed after midnight,
"Freak out!!!"
'Tween the madness and fire and light
Merry Christmas to auld
And to ald a good night!