Well, you can tell by the way I haud my breath
I’m in The Hive, close to death
Sticky floors and lager warm, it’s been kicked around
Since it was born

It’s not right, it’s not okay
And you can look the other way
Probably should’ve went to The Stand
Or the Monkey Barrel man

Whether you’re a cunt or a comedy punter
Honk of The Hive, Honk of The Hive
Taste the smell of sweat and vomit and regret
Honk of The Hive, Honk of The Hive
Honk, honk, honk, honk, honk of The Hive, honk of The Hive
Honk, honk, honk, honk, honk of The Hive, honk of The Hive

 

see also:

Comedy

Stinkhorn