I know. Jazz hands stopped being funny ran out years ago.
But I’m not worried about being arrested by the Comedy Police. I live in a state with a no extradition policy.
The state of denial.
Short and tan and young and smiley,
The squirrel from Ipanema goes wacky
And when he passes, each one he passes goes – Wha….?
When he trips, he’s like a stack of bricks,
That falls so hard and smashes his wits,
That when he passes out, each time he passes out, he droooools….
(ooh) but I watch him so madly,
How can I tell him I’ll help him?
Yes I would give my spleen gladly
But each day, when he flees from the bees
He looks straight ahead, not at me
Short, (and) tan, (and) young, (and) smiley
The squirrel from ipanema goes wacky
And when he passes, I smile – but he doesn’t see (doesn’t see)
(he just doesn’t see, he never sees me, or even the bees,…)