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 Ono You go home Post policemen fill up day Student-teachers' 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 Ono You go home